The tales told by starlight

The tales told by starlight

The Hubble Space Telescope being deployed in 1990 • NASA/IMAX (Public Domain)

Originally published 26 January 1987

One year ago this week [in Jan­u­ary 1986], the Space Shut­tle Chal­lenger explod­ed short­ly after take­off, tak­ing sev­en astro­nauts to a fiery death. Eval­u­a­tion of the acci­dent and redesign of the shut­tle and boost­er rock­ets has inter­rupt­ed the launch sched­ule for at least two years. For astronomers, the ground­ed shut­tle has meant a frus­trat­ing delay in deploy­ment of the Hub­ble Space Tele­scope, one of the most remark­able instru­ments in the his­to­ry of sci­ence, and one that has the poten­tial to rev­o­lu­tion­ize our knowl­edge of the universe.

The Hub­ble tele­scope was sched­uled to be launched last year. It is present­ly rest­ing in a test rig at the Lock­heed Mis­siles and Space Co. in Sun­ny­vale, Calif. It costs NASA at least $3 mil­lion per month to main­tain the space obser­va­to­ry in flight-ready con­di­tion. At the ear­li­est, it will be late in 1988 before the tele­scope is placed in orbit.

The delay is not time being wast­ed. The com­po­nents of the tele­scope are being made bet­ter and checked and rechecked. By the time the tele­scope is loft­ed above the Earth­’s atmos­phere, it will be one of the most thor­ough­ly test­ed instru­ments in history.

An eye on the cosmos

The mir­ror of the tele­scope is 92 inch­es in diam­e­ter. That is not half the size of the Hale Tele­scope on Mt. Palo­mar, but by being above the murky bar­ri­er of the Earth­’s atmos­phere, the tele­scope will have a res­o­lu­tion (abil­i­ty to dis­tin­guish detail) that is five times bet­ter than the best ground-based obser­va­to­ries. The incred­i­ble sta­bil­i­ty of the orbit­ing obser­va­to­ry will mean that it can be point­ed accu­rate­ly at an astro­nom­i­cal object for a long peri­od of time, accu­mu­lat­ing more and more light with its sen­si­tive cam­eras. Long expo­sures will enable astronomers to see much deep­er into space than ever before.

The tele­scope will cap a decade of extra­or­di­nary inno­va­tions in astron­o­my. New mate­ri­als and tech­nolo­gies have enabled astronomers to build big ground-based tele­scopes cheap­ly. Elec­tron­ic detec­tors ampli­fy weak light from celes­tial objects. Lasers and atom­ic clocks make it pos­si­ble for tele­scopes to work in tan­dem, increas­ing their light-gath­er­ing abil­i­ty and res­o­lu­tion. Com­put­ers process dig­i­tal images, sharp­en­ing res­o­lu­tion and con­trast. The goal of all this inven­tive­ness is to squeeze a max­i­mum amount of infor­ma­tion from starlight.

It is worth think­ing for a few moments about how starlight makes its way to our eye — or to our tele­scopes. A star’s light moves out from the sur­face of the star in every direc­tion, into the great empti­ness of inter­stel­lar space, becom­ing always more dilute.

Ever-expanding spheres

You can think of the ener­gy that leaves a star — Vega, say — as being car­ried away from the star on the sur­face of an expand­ing sphere. The radius of the sphere increas­es at 186,000 miles per sec­ond, the speed of light, dis­tend­ing the star’s light over an ever-increas­ing area, stretch­ing the ener­gy den­si­ty always thin­ner. At our dis­tance from Vega — 27 light-years — that star’s light is dis­persed over a sur­face with an area of 315 octil­lion square miles (an almost unimag­in­ably large num­ber; 315 fol­lowed by 27 zeros). When we see Vega, it is with the infin­i­tes­i­mal­ly small frac­tion of Veg­a’s light that just hap­pens to fall upon the pupils of our eyes.

How can I sug­gest how lit­tle of Veg­a’s light our eyes actu­al­ly gath­er up? If the light radi­at­ed by Vega at a par­tic­u­lar instant is com­pared with all of the sand on all of the beach­es of the world, then the frac­tion of the light that will even­tu­al­ly enter my eye is a sin­gle grain.

No, the anal­o­gy is not yet math­e­mat­i­cal­ly cor­rect. Let the light radi­at­ed by Vega be com­pared with the entire mate­r­i­al bulk of the plan­et Earth; then the frac­tion of the ener­gy that will be col­lect­ed by the largest tele­scope on Earth is still less than a mote of dust. It is out of that mote of starlight that the astronomer extracts knowl­edge of the star.

I can work all of this out on paper, and still it seems a mir­a­cle. On a star­ry night, the light of a thou­sand stars may enter my eyes in suf­fi­cient quan­ti­ty to enable my brain to form images of the stars. A thou­sand dis­tinct wavelets of ener­gy enter my eyes at slight­ly dif­fer­ent angles from out of the depths of space, and by some mir­a­cle of per­cep­tion my eyes and brain sort it all out, put each star in its prop­er place, dis­cern its col­or, and rec­og­nize the constellations.

Of the flux of starlight that reach­es Earth, astronomers, with the prop­er instru­men­ta­tion, can deduce the sizes, dis­tances, den­si­ties and com­po­si­tions of the stars. The his­to­ry of astron­o­my has been the search for ways of accu­mu­lat­ing more and more of that gen­tle rain of starlight that falls upon the Earth, and of find­ing ways to extract the infor­ma­tion it contains.

The Hub­ble Space Tele­scope, when it goes into orbit, will be a giant step for­ward in the tech­nol­o­gy of soak­ing up starlight. In the mean­time, Earth-bound astronomers will con­tin­ue to find new ways to squeeze knowl­edge from the starlight that even now is falling upon the Earth.


The Hub­ble Space Tele­scope was even­tu­al­ly launched in 1990, and after some ini­tial tech­ni­cal prob­lems, it became the rev­o­lu­tion­ary instru­ment that astronomers had hoped for. ‑Ed.

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