cosmology

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“No need to get up-tighter”?

It’s Monday again, and though it is not raining down by me, I’m all but certain that it’s raining somewhere right now, so one could say “it’s raining again” without fear of being entirely wrong.  No matter how you might want to cut up spacetime based on “planes” of “simultaneity”, there is sure to be somewhere in the universe where it is raining now.

Actually, if the universe is infinite in spatial extent, one could probably prove that it is a mathematical certainty that it’s raining somewhere, since there are‒as far as we can tell‒only a finite number* of possible quantum states in any given region of spacetime, and some of these include rain.  Indeed, even if it were not raining on Earth, anywhere, in some given instant (an unlikely eventuality), the fact is that rain can happen in many places in many forms.  I’m led to understand that it sometimes rains neon in the atmosphere of Jupiter.

So, perhaps the song by Supertramp shouldn’t have been It’s Raining Again, but should have been It’s Raining Still.

I don’t know.  Maybe that wouldn’t suit the rhythm of the song.  Then again, it always was a song where the sentiments expressed in the lyrics didn’t quite match the upbeat character of the tune.  This was probably deliberate on the part of the band.

Oh, in case anyone was wondering, the reason there was no post on Saturday was that, indeed, we did not work in the office on Saturday.  We didn’t work out of the office, either, as far as I know.  Well, I know I didn’t work, so even if they worked, we did not work, so I guess I’m right there.

I did a fair amount of walking on Saturday, and nearly as much on Sunday, though Saturday’s walk was more interesting.  I walked in a “park” along a canal in south Florida, and found myself well down into Dade County before I found an exit from the park area that took me to a road on which I could get something to quench my thirst and a place to which to call an Uber (they have a hard time picking one up in a park alongside a canal).  I had walked about seven and a half miles, and I could tell I was getting a bit too much sun**, though my feet and ankles and knees seemed to be holding up okay.

On Sunday I went for another walk, during which I had enough sunscreen.  That was because on Sunday I took my walk solely for the sake of walking, unlike Saturday, on which I had a specific purpose, and my longer walk began on a whim after that purpose was achieved.

It wasn’t an interesting or noteworthy purpose, by the way.  I’m just not discussing it because it cannot have any bearing for anyone but me.

Let’s see, is there anything else going on that’s worth discussing?  Well, of course, there are things going on in the world, and in the universe, and so on, all the time, and probably many of them are worth discussing to someone, or would be, even if no one knows they are happening.  But, of course, pretty much anything that happens, no matter how locally momentous, is historically trivial, let alone cosmically trivial.

Probably there aren’t many things that aren’t cosmically trivial.  I suppose if inflationary cosmology is real and it started at some locus in spacetime, then that would not have been trivial.  But if there is eternal inflation, there’s a real question as to whether it started at all.

Of course, even then, with eternal inflation, the local drop of the inflaton field down to the vacuum state (or a pseudo-vacuum state) here in our bubble universe‒leading to the formation of our universe, all its matter and energy, and possibly the configuration of our natural laws and constants‒would seem to be significant.

But that would only be significant to us, the creatures in this bubble universe.  On the scale of the cosmos overall, it would be just one bubble universe formation in an endless sea of such bubble universes, each one no more striking than the cavitation bubbles that form and then collapse in water that’s starting to boil.  Indeed, if our universe is such that an eventual recollapse will happen, i.e., a “Big Crunch”***, then we really are a lot like a cavitation bubble.

I guess this has been a slightly odd way to start the week‒which is unfortunate, given that today’s date is an even number (24) not an odd one.  But I don’t think I’ve ever claimed not to be an odd person.  I think I’ve known that I was different and a bit peculiar‒perhaps more than “a bit”‒since I was very young.  That’s okay in and of itself.  If most people are “normal”, why the hell would anyone want to be normal?

With that, I wish you all an abnormally good day and week, and if you’re in the US, I hope you have a good holiday coming up, and that you are anticipating it with eagerness.

*It’s big, don’t be mistaken.  But the biggest finite number you can think of‒ever‒is no closer to infinity than is the number 1.  So, in a universe that’s infinite in spatial extent, all possible finite configurations will be instantiated somewhere‒indeed, they will be instantiated an infinite number of times.

**I hadn’t planned on such a long walk, so I was not prepared in that sense.

***Our best information right now seems to indicate that we are not going to recollapse, but that we will continue to expand, at an ever-increasing rate.  I suppose that would make us more akin to a bubble that fully forms and expands in boiling water, escaping from the liquid into the air above.  Such bubbles are no more important than the cavitation bubbles, though.  They’re merely different. 

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If the vacuum collapses, everything gets messy

It’s Wednesday morning now, and I feel slightly better than I did yesterday, which should probably be no surprise.  I went back to the house last night, and I had a decent sleep‒for me, anyway‒and no major evening issues.  Now I am working my way toward the office.  It’s payroll day, so it should be at least mildly more hectic than most other days, but it shouldn’t be too unbearable.

Well, it shouldn’t be unbearable at all.  I mean, the state of being unbearable or not is a purely binary thing, isn’t it?  Either something is bearable or it is not.  If something is unbearable, then it cannot be borne.  So, saying something is not “too unbearable” is probably almost always nonsensical.  I suppose one could imagine something being only just unbearable, so that one could almost be able to bear it…but not quite, and one would finally be forced to succumb to whatever outcome that entailed, despite one’s possibly heroic struggles.

In some ways that sounds like it could be worse than something being thoroughly and unequivocally unbearable.  If one can see that something is truly unbearable, one will probably be less likely even to try to bear it.  One would not bother attempting to style out the brunt of a supernova; if one could not get far enough away, one would presumably just close one’s eyes and grit one’s teeth and take what comfort one could in knowing that the explosion will probably happen and obliterate one faster than any nerve impulse could propagate.

That’s one of the (tiny) comforts about the possibility of there being a “vacuum collapse” of the universe, in which the present “dark energy” vacuum state could, hypothetically, quantum tunnel down to a lower, truer vacuum state than the present one*, releasing that potential energy drop in such a way that wipes out all currently existing particles/fields.

This would erase everything in our visible universe (the “visible” part is deliberate and crucial; do you see why?**) in a sort of wave of collapse that starts at the site of the first state change, like the propagation of ice crystals forming in hitherto supercooled water.  But though it would be a shame, from our point of view, it would be one we would never experience, since the bubble of state change would expand at the speed of light.  It would thus be literally impossible to see it coming, because once you could see it, it would already be there, and you would be wiped away before you could possibly be aware that it was happening.

By the way, this possibility is “only” hypothetical; we aren’t even sure it could happen, not least because we’re not sure whether the vacuum state of the universe is as low as it can go or not, among other things.  But don’t worry:  if the vacuum collapse of the cosmos doesn’t kill you, something else will.

Even my truly immortal vampires in Mark Red might be wiped out by vacuum collapse.  I suspect they would, which might be a comfort to many of them, so to speak.  Of course, that would depend very much on how the “supernatural” forces in that book’s universe interact with the vacuum state and other quantum fields.  It’s not inconceivable that they might survive even that.  How’s that for horrifying?

These are odd thoughts for a Wednesday morning, aren’t they?  I mean, on a Thursday they wouldn’t be that odd, and even less so on a Friday.  On a Saturday they would be almost boringly predictable.  But on a Wednesday morning?  That’s just, well…odd, as I said.

I’m being silly.  My apologies.

I guess it’s more uplifting than is the prospect of universal Armageddon***.  Though, really, the Tao te Ching (in the version with which I am familiar) encourages us to embrace death with our whole hearts because that will help us to be prepared for most everything else we can encounter.

It does not encourage us to love death or to seek it; quite the contrary.  We are merely encouraged to accept it, not just intellectually but viscerally, to internalize***** it.  This is one of those curious circumstances in which the Tao to Ching and the movie Fight Club give the same advice, which is no indictment of that advice in either direction.

I try not to indulge in the vice of advice, but I will express my hope that every one of you who reads this post today or any of my other posts has a particularly good day, today and every day hereafter.

You’ve suffered enough already.

*This is analogous to what is thought to have happened when the “inflaton” field dropped down to a much lower energy level about 13.8 billion years ago, releasing the differential energy as the very hot soup of elementary particles that eventually became the universe we see.

**Okay, fine, I’ll explain.  It’s not just that the wave is expanding at the speed of light and so one would “see” it only as it hits.  But, given the current, accelerating expansion of the universe, the wave of change could never, even in principle, reach areas of the cosmos that are outside our cosmic horizon, because those places are receding from us faster than the speed of light/causality.  There is no causal influence from us that can ever reach them, or vice versa (assuming no wormholes or warp drives or similar).  Likewise, someplace beyond our horizon****** could be collapsing already, but we need never worry, because that collapse is not going to reach us (unless it changes the rate of overall cosmic expansion or even reverses it, which is not inconceivable.  We might then find ourselves in (or near) an anti-deSitter space, in which case, well…yeah).

***Not to be confused with the often misused**** term “apocalypse” which is basically just synonymous with “revelation”.  It’s become associated with the end of the world (and with lesser catastrophes) because one of the alternative titles of the book of Revelation is “The Apocalypse of Saint John the Divine” or whatever they called that nut bar.

****That rhymed, and it had a good rhythm too, both quite by accident.  I did that in yesterday’s or Monday’s post as well, but I didn’t call attention to it.  Can you find it now?

*****I would love to be able to use the term to grok it as in Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, but much as when Fuckerberg stole the term “metaverse” from me, likewise Elon Musk and the would-be tech boys who idolize him have arrogated the term “grok” and made it embarrassing to use.  Don’t even get me started on the disgusting theft of the word Palantir by Peter Thiel.  He deserves to be tortured interminably for the unmitigated gall he has shown in daring to use that term, but I would accept his immediate, painless disintegration and that of his company.

******Speaking of horizons, it is interesting to wonder what a vacuum state collapse would do to currently existing black holes.  I suspect they would basically be impervious to it, since the vacuum state is something that exists within spacetime, with the gravitational field as the backdrop of other quantum fields, but we don’t necessarily know enough about quantum gravity to feel very sure, as far as I know.  I suspect it might change the specifics of Hawking radiation at the level of the event horizon, and thus change the specific rate of black hole decay.  Also, I think in the first rush of particles generated by such a vacuum decay, most black holes would grow briefly with the influx of newly released energy all around them that had previously been bound up in the vacuum energy.  But that’s just my initial intuition.

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In the voids between galaxies, it’s already next year, but there’s still no life there.

It’s Tuesday, now‒the first Tuesday of the new year.  This is not anything particularly interesting, of course.  It’s really just another day.  But it is also the last day of the first week of the new year, the 7th day of the year, as indicated by the fact that it is January 7th.

“Brilliant, Holmes!” I hear you say.

In this case, though, it truly is elementary.  It’s also pretty boring, so I’m sorry to go on about it.

There have been troubling things in national news, of course:  the terroristic suicide attack-by-vehicle in New Orleans; the guy who blew up his cyber truck; severe cold weather striking large swaths of the eastern US; and, of course, no one has yet yelled “Psych!!” regarding Donald Trump’s election for a second term as president.

I’m not as rabidly anti-Trump as many; he’s just a man, of soft and squishy flesh and blood, like everyone else.  He’s also just one more incompetent government official on a world stage that might as well be a collection of (poor quality) Three Stooges clones.

It would be remarkable and praiseworthy if humans actually elected smart, calm, intellectually honest government officials with personal integrity.  Alas, when holding elections, humans seem unable to be as rigorous in their evaluation of candidates as they would be when screening babysitters or even gardeners.  And, of course, since few people are in the habit of reflecting on themselves in any way to improve on their own flaws in judgment, it seems unlikely that things will change very quickly.

This is all nothing new, of course.  The modern shape of cyberspace and the borderline-antisocial media add little twists and peculiarities, introducing new dynamics to the system.  But the dominating principles of primate social and sexual dominance hierarchies and displays have not changed much, if at all.

The only really interesting thing I’ve found in the news is the statement about a new study‒an elaboration of a first theoretical paper from some years ago‒that proposes a potential alternative explanation for the fact that the expansion of the universe appears to be accelerating that doesn’t require “dark energy”.

The cosmological principle, which underlies the usefulness of standard model, lambda-CDM cosmology, states that, on the largest of scales, the universe is uniform and homogeneous.  However, on anything other than the largest scales, the universe is decidedly clumpy.  This is because of gravity, of course, pulling things together in regions where things are more dense (making them still denser) and making the spaces in between ever more rarefied and so on.

But, of course, gravity is not just a simple attractive force; it works its effects through the warping of spacetime, and in ordinary circumstances (so to speak) its effect on time is far more significant than those on space.  This is a very real effect, one for which we have to adjust when using GPS satellites for instance, so while general understanding of it may be relatively rare, it is not an esoteric bit of physics.  It’s textbook stuff.

The point being made by this new hypothesis is that perhaps there is no real dark energy, but instead, in regions where more mass exists, time slows down.  This is a bit of an oversimplification, but it’s quite true, and indeed, to a large extent, all the apparent physical effects of gravity are produced by the differential flow of time between places where the manifold is more vs. less curved.

So, in the places where matter/energy is relatively scarce, time moves “more quickly”.  So, since the universe is definitely expanding (due to the Big Bang), those regions are going forward through their expansion more quickly than regions with more matter, and so the space between galaxies and clusters appears to expand more quickly, and as the comparative difference, the contrast, in energy concentration increases, the difference in passage of time will tend to increase, too, producing an apparent accelerated expansion.

[Note to self:  how would this model be expected to affect the extreme measured uniformity of the Cosmic Microwave Background?  Is this going to be a point of evidence against it?]

This is not a definitive, tested hypothesis, but it rests on sound principles.  It probably won’t supersede lambda-CDM, but it has the potential to do so.  This is no crank, RFK Jr. style hypothesis by any means.  I haven’t read the papers involved yet; rather I read articles and watched some videos about it; I will try to learn more.

But, since the discovery of the accelerating expansion of the universe in the late ‘90s was the single most exciting (non-personal) event in my life, the idea that there is a new approach that might change that again is also truly exciting.

It makes me wish I had just gone into physics as I had originally intended.  However, post-open heart surgery, transient cognitive impairment, and an exacerbation of depression triggered by the same thing, made it too difficult, in the short term, to keep up with my physics and math classes in the semester after my heart surgery, so to English I went.

But as I picture the large-scale universe differentially flowing through time and thus expanding at relatively different seeming rates, producing this wonderful, higher-dimensional twisty-bulgy-filamentous shape, I can at least feel a little twinge of the joy of contemplating science.  My only real contribution to science was in studying the effects of gliotoxin on naked DNA in vitro, and though that’s quite interesting, it’s not exactly cosmology.

Oh, I also wrote a pretty decent review article about the various effects on cognition and other neurological functions of heart-lung bypass as done during open-heart surgery.  Clearly, that was motivated by personal experience.

Anyway, that’s it for today.  Tomorrow begins the second week of the year, but I don’t expect to write again before Thursday.

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Would YOU eat Zel’dovich pancakes for breakfast?

It’s Tuesday, and I’m writing another blog post rather than throwing some kind of curve ball and doing my fiction writing today, since I wrote a blog post yesterday, when I had scheduled myself to write some fiction.  I don’t know if that counts as a double curve ball or as a capitulation to a simple, over-the-plate, none-too-fast soft pitch.  It’s probably the latter, but I suppose there is no absolute right answer, and the judgment would depend upon one’s point of view.

I’ve realized that, contrary to what I wrote yesterday‒to what I honestly thought was the case‒I did not bring my small laptop computer with me when I left the office on Thursday.  I had unplugged it with the intention to pack it, but then I had left without it.  I can’t recall ever having done that before.  It goes to show just how crappy I felt on Thursday, I guess.

I really want to keep writing fiction.  It would be a shame to take this new story that I’ve well begun, with over 10,000 words written so far, and let it just fall by the wayside.  Then again, I’ve left The Dark Fairy and the Desperado hanging, and more egregiously, I’ve left Outlaw’s Mind hanging, so it’s not as though there is no precedent.  And, of course, in the past I’ve left stories incomplete many, many times.  But it seems particularly sad, now that I’ve published 5 novels and 2 collections of “short” stories, to fall back into that pattern.

But I need to find a way to be able to work fiction writing into my daily routines without messing up habits that have become somewhat compulsory for me.  I’ve tried to find ways to block out the noise in the office, so far without much success.  Yesterday I bought a rather inexpensive pair of noise-canceling headphones.  They didn’t do that good a job at the noise canceling; they reduced it a bit, but it was still there, though if I put in earplugs as well and then also played a YouTube video about field theories and similar stuff, if helped, but that is certainly not a combination of measures I could take while trying to write fiction.

I’m of two minds (at least) about the headphones.  I’m glad I didn’t spend very much on them, since they don’t turn out to be as effective as my more old-fashioned, gun-range and airport style ear defenders (when combined with ear plugs).  They can also play music or the sound from videos, but I didn’t get them for that.  I already have things that can do that.  But I wonder if more expensive ones would do any better.

It’s a shame that no high-powered movie executive has read any of my books or stories and approached me to option them for movies or shows or anything, but it’s obviously not surprising.  I’m terrible at self-promotion, more by temperament than merely due to lack of skill.  This blog is my closest approach to self-promotion, and I spend most of my time here spewing my random and often depressed and depressing thoughts in some wishful, pseudo-Freudian free association kind of exercise.

Of course, it’s about as useful to me as Freudian psychoanalysis* ever has been clinically demonstrated to be for anyone, which is to say, very little, if at all.  Nevertheless‒and also like psychoanalysis for many of its patients‒it has been habit forming, and I feel awkward and disjointed without it.

Also, as I noted yesterday, it’s the only means by which I keep contact with anyone other than my sister in the world outside of the office.  I’ve really become a shell of my former self, and the fact that there is physically more of me now than there has ever been before only makes that more biting, the irony enhancing the contrast with the past, when I used to relieve suffering and save lives and be beneficial to the world.

Ah, well.  From a cosmic perspective, all such benefits will probably be transitory, or effectively be nonexistent.

Which reminds me:  yesterday I was looking at the abstracts of some recent papers on “quantum cosmology” uploaded onto arXiv, the preprint server.  Obviously, most of these subjects were well beyond my expertise truly to be able to follow, but I get the concepts involved in most of them.  Also, exposure to the mathematical formalism when I don’t know how to manipulate it often makes it easier to understand later, as there is familiarity and applicability that helps add to the more complete picture I gradually build in my mind about such things.

This has happened to me more than once in the past.  I don’t learn by rote, I learn by building mental models and maps and structures that link areas of knowledge and understanding together.  So, I don’t learn quickly, but I learn deeply and durably.  I think this is a much better way to go.

Anyway, that’s tangential.  What was amusing is, I read about a paper involving some deSitter** models of inflation in a universe which (if I recall the abstract correctly) was matter-dominated in early moments and so had no uniform pressure (unlike radiation-dominated situations, which, if I’m remembering correctly, is pressure intensive and homogeneous, and is how our early universe probably was).  In such models, if I understood the point correctly, you could find more noteworthy inhomogeneities than seen in radiation-dominated phases, which makes sense, since the radiation pressure works against gravitational collapse.

So, the model discussed would be unlike our universe, in which the CMB demonstrates extreme homogeneity, down to a few parts in a hundred thousand, even from one edge of the cosmic horizon to the opposite edge, encompassing regions that could never possibly have been in any form of direct causal contact at least since the hypothetical time of inflation.  The light from each side has only just now reached us, and so is only halfway across to the other side, and may well never reach it if the universe expands quickly enough.  Yet the temperatures are the same to a few parts in a hundred thousand, which is probably more than can be said about the room you’re sitting in now.

One type of this theoretical homogeneity in the model in the abstract had apparently been previously described as a “Zel’dovich pancake”.  This is apparently nothing new (first described in the 1970s), but is a really amusing way to think of a cosmic structure, and I kind of want to look into it and see what it describes, to see if I can understand, at least superficially, the math behind it.

Wow, that was a whole ‘nother tangent of much greater departure than before.  I think I’ll call that good for now for this day’s blog.  I’m kind of all over the place, and if I’m not too careful, I might undergo decoherence and split into multiple versions of myself.  That seems all too possible, since I’ve never been naturally inclined to very impressive coherence in the first place.

I will probably be writing here tomorrow.

*Not to be confused with the more general term “psychotherapy”, which can be useful depending on the type of therapy and the person receiving it.  CBT is one of the most effective of these; it didn’t work all that well for me, but I’m annoying and perverse, so that’s no surprise.

**DeSitter spacetimes are just spacetimes with positive cosmological constants‒like our universe, with its apparent “dark energy”‒which will tend to drive accelerating expansion.  The whole “holographic universe” concept was motivated, or perhaps inspired, partly by the Bekenstein-Hawking recognition that the maximal entropy of any region of spacetime is defined by the surface area of an event horizon the size of that region.  Any greater entropy in the region would add to the mass of the black hole associated with that horizon, and so would make the horizon larger; thus that is the maximal entropy for that initial region.  QED (Quod erat demonstrandum, not quantum electrodynamics) if you will.  The holographic principle regarding a universe has only ever been worked out for anti-deSitter spaces, with negative cosmological constants, which we know is not the case for the universe in which we live because…well, because we’re alive, and those spacetimes tend to collapse rapidly.

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Mad morning musings and “The End of All That Is”

It’s Wednesday morning again, and here I am, reverting to habit, writing a blog post (this time on my smartphone) because I frankly can’t seem to think of anything better to do with my time.

Well…I could sleep.  That would be a better use of my time.  Except I can’t sleep.  Even on weekends, the only way I get myself to sleep through the night is to take two Benadryl™ before I lie down.  But that’s not really effective, restorative sleep, and though I stay in “bed” later, I can tell the next day that I’m not really rested.  Or maybe that’s just residual effects of the antihistamine, I don’t know.

The best thing about when I was taking Paxil for my depression‒which didn’t work overall, and gave me bad side-effects‒was that it made me not just able to go to sleep at night, but to actually feel good going to bed and going to sleep, to enjoy the process.  I had never experienced that before, nor have I since.  But, as I said, there were other side-effects that made it quite bad.

Also, it made me gain weight, which would be particularly bad now, because I’m already heavier than I’ve ever been.  That’s what can happen when one’s only reliable pleasure comes from eating, and when one also eats as a sort of “stimming” and soothing thing to try to ease a constant sense of anhedonia and stress and dysphoria.  And it’s not as though I could simply “embrace” my body size, because it comes with worsening pain and other unpleasant consequences.

Unfortunately, I don’t get immediate worsening of pain when I eat.  It’s delayed.  If it were immediate, I would probably develop a habitual avoidance, and that would be great.  I try to remind myself, when my ankles and knees and back and hips are hurting a lot, that this is caused, at least partly, by eating too much, but that auto-suggestion doesn’t seem quite to work.

I’m pretty sure that I would eat less if I slept better.  Chronic sleep loss tends to affect one’s regulatory and stress hormones, and can stimulate appetite (especially for carbohydrates) in many people.  I appear to be one of these people.

I wonder if I could figure out a way to cause myself pain while eating‒maybe I could put a clothespin on the end of my pinky when I eat, every time I eat.  I don’t know if you all remember, but having a clothespin clamped on your fingernail hurts quite a lot, and hurts even more (albeit briefly) when you take it off and circulation returns*.

If I could arrange something like that to happen whenever I eat, that would be useful.  I did have a TENS unit that never helped my chronic pain, but some of its higher settings could be quite uncomfortable.  I suppose it might be useful to train myself, though it would require setting it up and activating it every time I ate.  Also, I’m almost sure that I threw it away in frustration because it didn’t work.

It would be really useful if I could somehow trigger nausea any time I ate, as in the style of aversion training seen in A Clockwork Orange.  I suppose I could try to force myself to eat eggplant with every meal…but no, I don’t think I could.  It’s very hard to force oneself to eat things that make one feel sick.  That’s the whole point of this line of thought.  I guess I could look for some syrup of ipecac.  I’ve never used that, but I think they used to use it to make people throw up if they’d eaten something poisonous or the like.  It might be worth a try.  I think I’ll send myself a reminder to look it up on Amazon.

The train just arrived.  I must say, Tri-Rail seems to have deteriorated slightly since changing their schedules, but maybe they’re just in the middle of making adjustments.  I try to give other people and organizations the benefit of the doubt when I can.  The Principle of Charity is one that I think would be very useful for society as a whole, or at least for humans:  the idea of trying to see what people say and do from the best possible light you can, instead of reflexively assuming the worst, of getting judgmental and self-righteous and assuming anything you find even slightly uncomfortable is a personal attack on you, precisely because you feel uncomfortable.

If I took that attitude, I could definitely see myself trying to destroy the world or even the universe, because a lot of reality bothers me a lot of the time.  Fortunately, I know that my feelings are my problem and my responsibility, not anyone else’s.

Not that I don’t fantasize about global and even universal destruction when I’m feeling particularly pan-antipathic.  I imagine working to perfect technology to adjust the course of asteroids.  I could even sneakily get government funding to do so, but then I could actually use the technology to steer near-Earth objects toward the Earth rather than away from it.  Some good asteroid hits might be extinction-level events, and a comet impact (of sufficient size) could wipe out nearly all life on Earth.

I say “nearly” because some microbes are remarkably resilient.

Of course, if one could study the possibility of vacuum decay‒causing, for instance, the cosmological constant or the Higgs Field to quantum tunnel to a lower energy level‒that would produce a wavefront process that would obliterate all forms of matter, a wavefront that would expand at the speed of light and wipe out everything.

Well…it wouldn’t literally wipe out everything, actually.  First off, it would leave behind whatever cosmos is entailed in the new Higgs (or other field) set-point.  And, of course, beyond our cosmic horizon, there are bits of reality that are moving away from us‒carried by the expansion of spacetime itself‒at faster than the speed of light.  So the vacuum decay wave would never reach them.  But it would obliterate everything in the observable universe, and that might be heartwarming enough.

Vacuum decay, though, may not even be a physical possibility‒it’s not a consensus prediction, though there are reasons to think it might be possible‒according to the best models we have of cosmic history, the Higgs field did settle out in a non-zero state after the electroweak era, and if inflationary cosmology is correct, then the “inflaton” field similarly decayed.

Still, we also have no idea how (or if) such a decay could be triggered.  There is no apparent risk of initiating it through highly energetic physics, because there are constant, extremely high energy processes happening in the cosmos, and everything we can see is all still there, as are we.

Oh, and contrary to the X-Men comics’ Phoenix/Dark Phoenix saga, unfortunately, a “neutron galaxy” would not be “The End of All That Is”.  If such a “neutron galaxy” were to “appear” in the middle of the Milky Way, that would be bad for us, though its effects would take a while, since even gravity doesn’t travel faster than the speed of light.  But effectively, a “neutron” galaxy would be no more cosmically devastating than a supermassive black hole with the mass of a hundred billion suns or so.  That’s a big black hole, bigger than any we’ve seen (and probably too big to be expected to exist at the current age of the cosmos), and as with any black hole, if you get too close it can be bad news**, but from a distance its effects would be no more harmful than an ordinary galaxy of equivalent mass.

Oh, well, I’ll have to keep brainstorming ways to destroy the world or humanity at least.  Maybe biology is the way to go‒it might be possible to genetically engineer something like the Blob or the Chicken Heart that Ate the World.  Or one could deliberately make an AI that has the terminal goal to turn everything into paperclips, not by accident but on purpose.  That would be humorously ironic.  Or one could just make an AI nanobot, Von Neumann probe-style thing that literally had the sole programming to replicate itself as much and as fast as possible, using every available resource.

I’ve written before about how such a thing could even instantiate a new kind of galaxy-level natural selection.

I wonder what would happen if I tried to crowd-source a project to end all life in the universe, maybe with a “GoFundMe” page…

Anyway, my station is coming up, so I’ll draw my insane musings to a close for now.  I don’t know if I’ll write anything tomorrow.

*Don’t worry, this was not something anyone else ever did to me.  This was something with which I experimented on myself, because while it was painful, it was quite fascinating that the pain got worse when I first took the clothespin off.

**Although, with one that big, you could probably traverse the event horizon without tidal forces killing you‒at least not just yet‒by spaghettification, so it might at least allow for some interesting final experiences.