Welcome to Bedtime Astronomy. Explore the wonders of the cosmos with our soothing Bedtime Astronomie podcast. Each episode offers a gentle journey through the stars, planets, and beyond, perfect for unwinding after a long day. Let's travel through the mysteries of the universe as you drift off into a peaceful slumber under the night sky.
Hello everyone, and welcome back to the show. We have a truly massive topic on the table today. And I don't mean massive in the you know, the casual sense. I mean we are literally talking about the heaviest, densest objects in the entire universe.
We really are.
We're looking at a paper that just dropped yesterday February twelve, twenty twenty six, in Physical Review Letters.
Yeah, it's about as hot off the press as it gets in this field.
It really is. And I have to say, reading through it this morning, it just felt like one of those moments where you realize we might have been looking at the sky in well in the wrong way for the last fifty years.
That's honestly not much of an exaggeration. This paper. It's by Henksy Wang and a team from the Max Planck Institute in Oxford. It takes a problem that has frustrated astrophysicists for decades and just completely flips it on its head.
It really does. It turns a limitation into a tool.
Exactly.
We are talking about the universe as hidden strobes. More specifically, we're talking about supermassive black hole binaries, two absolute monsters locked in a death spiral, hiding in the dark.
And until yesterday, hiding was definitely the right word.
Right, So let's set the stage here for everyone, because I think most people have this image of a black hole as this lonely cosmic vacuum cleaner floating out there by.
Itself, a solitary monster.
Yeah, but that's not really the whole story.
Is it not at all? I mean, sure, solitary black holes exist, of course, But if you look at the grand structure of the cosmos, the whole thing is hierarchical. Galaxies grow by eating other galaxies.
It's galactic cannibalism.
It is. It's a violent, messy history. Our own Milky Way has eaten smaller dwarf galaxies in the past, and we're famously on a collision course with Andromeda.
Which is by the way still terrifying, but that's a problem for a few billion years from now, I guess, right.
But just think about the architecture for a second. We know that pretty much every massive galaxy, including our own, has a superassive black hole in SMBH at its heart. Ours is SAGITTARIUSA, SAGITTARIUSA exactly, Andromeda has one that's much bigger. So when Galaxy A smashes into Galaxy B, the.
Two big black holes have to go somewhere.
They have to. They don't just vanish. As the two galaxies merge and all the stars and gas settle down into a new larger structure. Those two central black holes they have to interact. They sink.
They sink towards the middle of the new galaxy.
Right through a process we call dynamical friction. They sink toward the new center of gravity, and so logic dictates they must eventually find each.
Other and form a pair a binary.
A binary two super massive black holes orbiting each other.
And this is the invisible dance we're talking about. The physics says they have to be there. All our models of how galaxies evolve say the universe should be well teeming with these.
Things, it should be a common phenomenon.
But when we point our best telescopes at those centers of these big merged galaxies, we see nothing.
Well, not quite nothing. We see the galaxy the bright core. But trying to resolve two distinct black holes that are orbiting closely. It's arguably one of the single hardest observational challenges in all of astronomy.
Okay, but why I mean we have the event horizon telescope. We literally took a picture of a black hole shadow a few years back. Why can't we just zoom in and see two of them?
It's all about scale and resolution. The event Horizon telescope was an incredible feat, but it essentially turned the entire planet Earth into one giant radio dish to look at two very specific tars targets our own Sagittarius A and the one in M eighty seven.
So it's not something we can just point anywhere.
No, not at all. And for these binarias, we're talking about objects that could be millions or even billions of light years away. Now, when they're still very far apart from each other, say a few thousand light years, we can sometimes see them. We have confirmed cases of dual active galactic nuclei.
So two bright spots and a messy colliding galaxy exactly.
You can resolve them as two distinct points of light.
Okay, so we can see the ones that have just started dating.
You could put it that way. They're just waving at each other from across the room. But the ones we really care about, the ones that are gravitationally bound and are spiraling in towards an inevitable cataclysmic merger, those are effectively invisible.
Why because they're too close, way too close.
At that distance, they're separated by less than a light year, maybe much less. To our telescopes, they just blur together into a single blob of light.
So they're either hiding in the glare of the galaxy's core.
Or hiding in complete darkness if there isn't a lot of gas around them for them to eat and light up. And this has created this huge frustrating gap in our understanding.
A cosmic blind spot.
It is. We see them when they're far apart, and thanks to detectors like Lego, we can hear them in the final fraction of a second when they actually crash together and merge.
But the whole middle part, the millions of years they spend spiraling closer and closer.
It's a complete black box. We have almost no confirmed observations of that inspiral phase for supermassive black hole.
Which is where this new paper comes in because the team from Max Plank in Oxford is basically saying, Okay, stop looking for the black holes.
Exactly. They're saying, stop trying to resolve the dark objects themselves. Instead, look at the background, look at the wallpaper, look at the stars sitting behind them. They are proposing we use these binary black holes not as targets, but as lenses, as natural telescopes.
Okay, this is where we need to go into the details. Because gravitational lensing is a term that gets tossed around a lot. You always hear the same analogy, you know, a bowling ball on a trampoline.
The trampoline analogy.
Yeah, that's not going to cut it today. We need to go deeper, we really do.
The trampoline analogy is well, it's fine for getting the basic idea across, but it completely fails to explain why what this paper's proposing is so groundbreaking.
So walk us through the actual mechanism. Let's start with lensing one oh one, a single black hole, okay.
Einstein's general relativity mass warps the fabric of space time, and light, which we normally think of as traveling in a straight line, has to follow the curves in space time.
So it's not that gravity is pulling on the light, it's that the path itself is bent precisely.
Light is just taking the straightest possible path through a curved space. So if you have a massive object, the lens, and a light source directly behind it, the light from that source has to travel around the lens to get.
To us, flowing around a rock in a stream.
That's a decent analogy. Now, if you have a single perfectly spherical mass, like a single non spinning black hole, that lensing effect is very, very symmetric, okay. And if the alignment is perfect, the background, star, the black hole, and you, the observer are all in a perfect line. That symmetry focuses the light into what we call an Einstein ring.
A perfect circle of light, a perfect circle.
We've seen these. We use them to weigh distant galaxies and find exoplanets. It's a standard tool in the astronomical toolkit.
But what's the catch.
The catch is that word perfect. For a single spherical lens that has a single focal point, you have to be exactly on that line of sight to get that extreme magnification to see the ring. It's like a laser beam.
So if a background star is just a tiny bit off to the side of the black hole, we don't see the ring.
You'll see some distortion. The star might appear as two separate, slightly brighter images, but you don't get that massive, massive spike and brightness unless the alignment is just so. It's rare, very rare.
Okay, that's lensing one oh one. Now enter the second black hole lensing two to two.
This is where everything changes. You aren't just adding a second lens next to the first one. You are creating a complex interference pattern between two deep gravitational wells.
The paper uses this term costic curves, and I know costic usually means something that burns.
It does, but in optics and in gravitational lensing, it means something else. Left you back to that swimming pool analogy I mentioned earlier.
The squiggly lines on the bottom.
Exactly Think about why those lines are there. The surface of the water isn't flat. It's covered in little waves and ripples. Right, each ripple acts like a tiny, imperfect lens.
Okay, I'm with you.
So these ripples aren't focusing the sunlight into lots of little single points. They're focusing the light into lines, into curves. And those bright, dancing webs of light on the bottom of the pool, those are the caustics. It's where the light rays pile up, where the intensity is highest.
Got it. So the water ripples are the imperfect lens, and the bright lines are the You've got it.
Now take that concept and scale it up to the cosmos. Instead of ripples on water, you have two supermassive black holes orbiting each other. Their combined gravity creates a very complex surface in space time. It's not a smooth bowl anymore.
It has ridges and valleys exactly.
And those gravitational ridges focus the light from background stars, not into a point, but into a network of high magnification lines. Those are the caustic curves.
And what do they look like?
For a binary system? This network creates a very specific shape. The paper describes it as a diamond shaped structure. In mathematics, it's called an.
Astroid, an asteroid like video game.
Spelled differently, but yeah, it looks a bit like that. It's a star shape, a diamond with four points, but the sides are curved inwards. They're concave.
So let me picture this floating in empty space behind these two invisible black holes. Is this other invisible thing, this geometric diamond of pure magnification?
That is exactly what it is. And here is the absolute critical difference between a single black hole and a binary. For a single black hole, the region of very high magnification is a tiny point. For a binary, the region of very high magnification is this entire much larger diamond shaped perimeter.
So the target is just bigger.
Massively bigger. Ben's Coxus, one of the authors, makes this exact point in the press release. The chances of a background star's light being hugely amplified increase enormously for a binary compared to a single black hole.
It's the difference between trying to hit the bull's eye with a single dart and just trying to hit any part of the dark.
Board, a much much bigger darkboard. You've gone from trying to thread a needle to trying to hit a barn door, the probability just skyrockets.
Okay, so the net is bigger. We have a much better chance of a background star lining up with this diamond shape. But the black holes aren't just sitting there.
No, they're not. And this is where the strobe concept finally clicks into place. If the two black holes were just frozen in space, the diamond caustic would be frozen too. A star that falls on it would just look like a permanently distorted, brightened image.
But they're not frozen. They're orbiting each other.
They're orbiting. They're in a constant dance.
So the diamond spins.
The diamond spins, it rotates right along with the binary. Imagine a lighthouse and the beam is rotating. But in this case, the beam isn't a simple ray of light. It's this entire complex caustic structure. It's a diamond shaped beam of magnification.
And that beam is sweeping across the background sky.
Constantly sweeping. And the background sky, even in a seemingly empty patch, is just filled with faint, distant stars.
So it's only a matter of time before that sweeping line of magnification runs over one of those stars.
It's inevitable, purely by chance, the caustic curve will cross a background star.
And when it hits, yeah, what do we see?
We see a flash. The mathematics of the caustic means the magnification just shoots up. Hanksy Wang, the lead author, describes it as an extraor ordinarily bright flash for a brief period of time. It could be hours, could be days. It depends on the geometry and the speed. That background star will suddenly become hundreds or even thousands of times brighter than it normally.
Is like someone switched on a cosmic light.
Bulb, a very powerful one. And then as the caustic line passes over the star and moves on.
The star goes back to normal.
It fades back to its regular faint baseline brightness, as if nothing happened.
But the binary is still orbiting.
The binary keeps spinning, so the diamond cost it comes around again.
On the next orbit, and if that star is still in the path, it hits.
The star again.
Flash flash. So we get a repeating signal a.
Blank Hey, you get a strobe light, a repeating predictable burst of starlight, all caused by two invisible objects dancing in front of it.
Okay, okay, I have to play Devil's advocate here. You know, I love this idea. But the universe is a really noisy place. It's full of things that blink and flash. We have variable stars, sefeed's, flarre stars, cataclysmic variables, super no. I mean, the list goes on. How can we possibly be sure that a blink we see is from this weird lensing effect and not just you know, a star having a hiccup.
That is probably the most important question in this entire field of time domain astronomy. Is this transient, this flash unique? And the authors of this paper argue that, yes, this signal is remarkably distinct. It has a fingerprint distinction. What way, the timing, the shape, It all comes down to the light curve. That's what astronomers call a plot of an object's brightness over time. Okay, so if you look at the light curve of a typical variable star like a sephid,
it often looks like a smooth wave. The brightness swells up and then it shrinks back down. It's often quite symmetric. That's because the physics is internal to the star. It's literally breathing, expanding and contracting.
And a costic crossing. What does that look like on the graph?
It looks nothing like that. Acostic crossing is purely geometric. It's not about stellar physics. It's about the geometry of crossing a fold in space time. The light curve is sharp, it's asymmetric. Asymmetric, you get a very very sharp rise in brightness and then a slightly slower fall. The peak is less of a gentle curve and more of a well, a spike. The math predicts a very specific U shaped
profile right at the peak. It's a fingerprint that just doesn't look like anything a star does on its own.
So if we see that specific, jagged spike shape, we know we're looking at gravity, not chemistry or fusion.
That's the idea, and there's another layer to it. It's not just periodic. The paper calls it quasi period.
Quasi periodic, so almost repeating.
It repeats, but not perfectly. And the reason it's not perfect is the most exciting part. It's the very thing we've been trying to measure for.
Decades, the inspiral.
The inspiral. We should probably pause here and really dig into why these black holes are merging in the first place. We mentioned dynamical fresh earlier how they sink to the center, but that process isn't perfect. It leads to a famous problem.
The final parsec problem. I remember this one. It's the idea that they get really close and then they just get stuck exactly.
Dynamical friction works great when the black holes are far apart, moving through a dense sea of stars. They transfer their orbital energy to the stars and sink. But once they get close enough to form a tight binary, they well, they clear out their neighborhood.
They kick all the nearby stars away with gravitational slingshots, right.
And once they've kicked all the nearby stars away, there's nothing left to create that friction. There's nothing left for them to transfer their energy to. So in theory, they should just stall. They should orbit each other forever at a distance of about a parsec or a few light years. They should never get close enough to merge.
But we know they do merge. We hear the gravitational waves from stellar mass black holes merging with lego all the.
Time, exactly, so something has to bridge that final parsec gap. For a long time, we weren't sure what it was. Maybe friction from a big gas disc, maybe interactions with a third black hole. But for these really massive binaries, the dominant four that brings them together in the end is the emission of gravitational waves.
And this is the key to decoding the strobes.
This is the Rosetta stone. As these two huge masses whip around each other, they are constantly churning space time, radiating enormous amounts of energy away in the form of these gravitational waves.
And if they're losing energy.
Their orbit has to shrink. As the orbit shrinks, conservation of angular momentum means they have to speed up.
And if they orbit faster, the strobe light blinks faster.
Precisely, this is the decoding part of the whole thing. If we can find one of these systems and watch the flashes over time, we aren't just seeing a blink. We are seeing a cosmic clock that is ticking faster and faster and faster.
So we can literally measure the rate of orbital decay just by timing the flashes from a background star.
Yes, we can watch general relativity happen in real time. But the paper points out something even more profound, even more subtle. What's that The emission of gravitational waves doesn't just change the orbital period, it actually changes the shape of the caustic diamond itself.
Wait, what how the waves themselves are distorting the lens in a way.
Yes, the loss of energy and the shrinking separation between the two black holes alters the overall gravitational potential of the system. This, in turn subtly alters the geometrre of the caustic curve. The paper states that it imprints a characteristic modulation on.
The flashes, So the lens itself is warping as the orbit decays.
In cosmic real time. Yes, so maybe the peak brightness of the flash gets a tiny bit higher with each pass, or the U shape of the light curve gets a little bit wider. The timing between the flashes will shift in a very specific, predictable way. That is a direct signature of gravitational wave emission.
Let me see if we get this straight. We find a star that's flashing, We check the light curve and confirm it has that jagged asymmetric shape of a costa crossing. We watch it repeat from the time between the flashes, we get the orbital period. From the brightness and shape of the flash, we can work out the total mass of the binary.
In their mass ratio.
Yes, and then from the tiny change in the timing and the shape of the flashes over years, we can measure how fast they're spiraling.
It.
You've got it. It's a complete telemetry package for an invisible system. We can extract the masses of the black holes, their distance from each other, their orbital speed, and the exact rate at which they are falling towards too.
That's just that's mind blowing. It's like finding the black box of a plane crash months before the plane actually crashes.
That's a grim but surprisingly accurate analogy. We are watching the slow motion collision.
But we have to talk about time scales here because in astronomy, slow motion usually means check back in a million years. If a big binary has an orbited period of say five years, do we have to wait a whole career to see the orbit change?
That is the practical challenge.
Yes.
For the most massive, super massive black holes, we're talking billions of solar masses. The orbital period in this phase could be a few years. So you see a flash and you set a reminder on your calendar for twenty thirty one and.
Five years later flash hopefully. Yeah.
So for any single system, yes, it's a very slow accumulation of data, But the real power of this method isn't in staring at one system forever, it's in watching all of them.
A population study exactly.
The paper really emphasizes this point. They say, what is possible our snapshots. Think of it like walking into a forest. You can't just sit there and watch a single acorn grow into a mighty oak tree. That takes a century.
But you can look around and see an acorn on the ground, a little sapling over there, a young tree, and a huge old.
One, and a rotting log. Exactly. By piecing together all those different snapshots, you can understand the entire life cycle of the tree.
So we apply that to the sky. We look for these flashes everywhere, everywhere.
And if we scan the whole sky, we will find binary black holes at every single stage of this inspiral process. We'll find some that are widely separated, flashing every decade or so. We'll find some that are tighter and faster, flashing every few months, and we'll find some that are right on the brink of merging.
And by putting all those data points together, we can build the movie of how these things evolve.
We can finally fill in that massive gap in our knowledge of galaxy evolution.
Which brings us to the tools. Because to scan the whole sky and catch a random flash that might only be visible for a few days, that just sounds incredibly expensive, like we'd need a new, dedicated.
Telescope, and it would be if we weren't already building the perfect machines to do it. For other reasons.
This is the part I love. We don't need a new line item in the federal budget for this.
No, we can just piggyback on the next generation of survey telescopes that are about to come online. The paper specifically calls out two of them, the Vera ce Reuben Observatory and the Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope.
Let's talk about Ruben first. That's the one down in Chile, right, the one that used to be called the LSST.
That's the one the Legacy Survey of Space and Time. Ruben is an absolute beast of a telescope. It's not like Hubble or the James web Hubble is like a sniper rifle. It stares at one tiny, tiny patch of sky with incredible detail. Reuben is a wide angle lens. It's a shotgun.
It takes a picture of the whole sky.
It will photograph the entire visible southern sky every three or four nights, over and over and over again, for ten years straight.
That's I can't even comprehend that amount of data.
It's something like twenty terabytes of data every single night. It is literally creating a high definition movie of the night sky.
So if a background star behind a binary black hole flashes on a Tuesday night and then goes back to normal by Friday.
Ruben will see it. It is designed from the ground up to find transience, things that change, things that flash, things that move, supernovae, asteroids, variable.
Stars, and now, thanks to this paper, binary black hole strobe.
So on the list of targets. Now the data will just be sitting there in the archive.
So it's not an observational problem, it's a data science problem.
Exactly. The photons will hit the detector. The challenge is writing the sophisticated soft where the algorithms that can sift through those petabytes of data and automatically flag it. To have a program that says, hey, wait a minute, that little blink in sector seven G that has the asymmetric caustic light curve flag it for a human to look at.
And what about the Roman Space Telescope.
That's NASA's next great observatory. It's space based, so no atmosphere to worry about, and its key feature is its field of view. It can see a patch of sky one hundred times larger than Hubble can in a single pointing so.
It's like a Hubble quality shotgun.
That's a great way to put it. It's doing what Reuben does, but from space and in the infrared, So between the two of them, we're going to have eyes on almost the entire sky almost all the time.
We're really entering a new era of astronomy.
It's the golden age of time domain astronomy. For most of human history, the sky was static. We took a photograph. Now we're watching the video.
I want to pivot for a minute to what you might call the competition, or maybe the partnership. We mentioned Igo before, but there's a future mission that's specifically designed for these super massive systems.
Lisa LISA, the Laser Interferometer space antenna.
It's still just the coolest acronym in science.
It really is. LISA IS. It's essentially a gravitational wave observatory in space. Imagine three separate spacecraft flying in a perfect triangle formation, millions of kilometers apart from each.
Other, and they just shoot lasers at each other.
They constantly shoot lasers at each other to measure the distance between them with unbelievable precision. When a gravitational wave from a supermassive black hole merger passes through the Solar System, it will stretch and squeeze the distance between those spacecraft by less than the width.
Of an atom, and LISA can detect that.
LISA will be able to detect that. It's designed specifically to hear the low frequency hum of these supermassive black hole binaries as they spiral together.
So Lisa, here's the gravitational waves, and this new method sees the light from the strobes. Right.
But here's the timeline issue. LISA is not scheduled to launch until the mid twenty thirties, maybe twenty thirty five, twenty thirty seven, somewhere in there.
So we have a decade long gap.
We have a gap. And this is where the new lensing method claims a huge, huge victory in the paper Cox has caused an extremely exciting prospect. Using Reuben and other telescopes, we can detect these inspiraling binaries with the strobe method years before Lisa ever gets off the ground.
We can build the catalog of targets.
Now we can find them, we can map them, We can say okay, at these coordinates in the sky, we have a binary with a mass of a billion suns and a two year orbital period. We can build a watch list.
And then in the twenty thirties, when LESA launches.
We turn it on and we already know where to listen. And this opens the door to the holy grail of modern astrophysics. Multi messenger astronomy.
That's a buzzword I hear constantly. Can you break that down for us?
It just means observing the same cosmic event with more than one messenger or more than one sense, seeing it with light, and hearing it with gravitational waves. Think about watching a thunderstorm, see the flash of lightning. That's your light signal, that's the strobe. A few seconds later, you hear the boom of the thunder, that's your second signal.
And from the delay between the two, you know how far away the storm is exactly.
If you only have one, you have incomplete information. But if you have both you can learn so much more. Now apply that to black holes. If we can see the flash from the caustic and hear the gravitational hum from the inspiral coming from the same object at the same time, we can test fundamental physics in ways that are currently just science fiction.
Like what, what's the first thing you'd test?
The speed of gravity? Einstein's theory says gravitational waves travel at the speed of light, but do they do they really to the fifteenth decimal place. If the flash and the wave arrive at our detectors at slightly different times after traveling for a billion years, that could mean Einstein was.
Wrong, which would be a Nobel prize.
Instantly, we break physics as we know it.
Wow. And it would also tell us about the environment around the black holes, wouldn't it, Because light gets affected by gas and dust, but gravity.
Gravity just plows right through everything. It doesn't care. So if the light signal is a little bit delayed or scattered compared to the pristine gravity signal. It tells us exactly how much messy stuff gas, dust, accretion disks is sitting around the binary. It gives us a complete picture.
It really feels like we're moving from just guessing about these systems to being able to put them on a lab bench and measure them.
That's the transition the whole field is making. We are moving from purely theoretical models of binary evolution to direct observational telemetry.
I want to circle back to something you mentioned earlier about the background the stars. Okay, for my whole life, I've thought of the background stars as well as just noise. They're just the wallpaper. They are the things you have to subtract from your image to see the galaxy you're actually interested in.
Astronomers have a term for it, the confusion limit. When there are so many faint stars you can't distinguish your target from the background, just stuff in the way.
But this paper just completely inverts that idea. It says the background stars aren't the noise, they're the tool.
They are the screen. That's the best way to think about it. The binary black hole is like an invisible film projector it's projecting its gravitational shape, this spinning diamond out into the universe. We can't see the projector itself, but we.
Can see the image it's casting on the screen at background stars exactly.
We see the flash as the beam sweeps past. The universe is a cinema and we're finally figuring out where to look to see the show.
I want to end on a thought that really struck me when I was reading the discussion section of the paper, and it's about old data, archival data.
Ah, yes, the potential for data archaeology.
We've been taking digital pictures of the sky for a long time now, the Sloan Digital Sky Survey, pan Stars a dozen other projects. We literally have petabytes of images sored on hard drives and server farms going back decades.
We do a treasure trap of information.
And if these invisible costic curves are constantly sweeping across the sky all the time, everywhere.
Then they have, without a doubt, triggered flashes that we have already photographed.
We've already seen them, we just didn't know what we were looking at.
Statistically, it's almost a certainty we have very likely recorded these exact events.
So why didn't anyone notice?
Because if you're looking at an image from nineteen ninety eight and you see a faint star that for one night was one hundred times brighter, and then in the next image it's gone again, what do you do.
I assume it was an error.
You'd shrug, You'd call it a cosmic ray hitting the detector, a glitch in the CCD chip, an anomaly. You discard it because it doesn't fit any pattern. You know, it's a one off weirdo.
We didn't have the dictionary to translate what we were seeing.
We didn't know the language. We didn't know that a jagged asymmetric spike was the signature of a binary supermassive black hole caustic. We just filed it under noise. Now now we have the template. Now we can write new algorithms to go back into all that old data from Sloan from pan stars and specifically hunt for that unique light curve shape.
So the very first discovery of one of these binary black hole stripes might not happen with the Rubin telescope in twenty twenty seven. It could happen on a supercomputer next week, sifting through data from twenty fifteen.
That is entirely possible. The evidence could very well be sitting there gathering digital dust on a server rack somewhere. We just need to blow off the dust and look at it with these new eyes.
That to me is the most exciting kind of science, the treasure hunt, where you realize the map leads back to your own basement.
It's a fantastic reminder that data is never truly dead. It just waits for a new theory, a new idea to bring it back to life.
Well, I think that is a perfect and very hopeful place to wrap things up. We've gone from invisible monsters, to diamond shape lenses, to cosmic strobes, and finally to divving for treasure in old hard drives. It's been quite
a journey, it really has. And for everyone listening. The next time you look up at a star and you see a twinkle, well, okay, it's probably just the Earth's atmosphere, but somewhere out there a star is blinking for a much, much grander reason because two giants are dancing in front of it.
Keep watching the data.
Thanks for listening, everyone, We'll catch you on the next one.
Sai
