by Ellen Jackson

Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. As you know, I’ve recently written a book about you. I’m a big fan.

So I’ve heard. It’s about time someone told my story. And I like your title: THE MYSTERIOUS UNIVERSE. I am rather mysterious, aren’t I?

You certainly are. Can you tell the readers where were you born?

Now, you see, right from the beginning we have a problem. I can’t tell you where I was born. And I can’t really tell you exactly when I was born, either.

The moment of my birth–you folks call it the Big Bang–was the beginning of space and time itself. Before I came along, strange as it may seem, there was no time. And there was no space. I can say, with a certain modesty, that I invented them.

You invented time and space? Amazing! How did it happen?

Well, I thought: “If I’m going to be an organized kind of universe, I better find a way to keep everything from happening at once. So I invented Time. Then I thought, “Whoa! Time rocks.” Then I noticed that everything was getting a little crowded, so I invented Space. I wanted everyone to have some elbow room. And it worked! Space is pretty cool, don’t you think?

I do.

Not bad for a beginner universe!

No indeed. Tell us about your birth. What do you remember?

Oh, it was exciting. Wish you could have seen it. Of course, you couldn’t have. There was no place to stand. I was just a tiny speck at first. Just a little, bitty fellow. And hot, very hot. In fact, you could say I was super-thermonuclear. You would have been pulverized in an instant, if you’d been there.

I flared forth in an incredible explosion and I blazed with such a frenzy... Well. Nothing like it will ever be seen again. I had a blast. No. I was a blast, a blast that scattered heat, light, and energy in all directions. Those were the days!

And that’s how everything started? Space? Time? The Works?

Yes, that would have been about 13.7 billion years ago, give or take. That is, if there had been years, which there weren’t. Because for a long, long time after that, there was no Earth. And no Sun for the Earth to go around. And therefore no “years”–if you catch my drift.

I thought you said you couldn’t tell us when you were born.

No I can’t exactly. It wasn’t as if it happened on October 22nd. But if you need a date for the history books, round it off and say I'm 14 billion years old, although there are those who say I don’t look a day over 10 billion.

I suppose you want to know where this event happened. Perhaps you people want to put up a plaque? Well, you’re standing in the very place. In fact, every place in the universe is the exact place where I was born. I am truly the center of everything. It all happened “here” because there was no “there,” at the time, if you get what I mean.

I’m confused. And my head is starting to hurt.

I certainly don’t want to confuse you. Let’s talk about something else. What do you want to know?

What, exactly, are you made of?

I was afraid you were going to ask that. It’s a bit complicated. But let’s start with the stuff you already know about. All around you are objects such as trees, cars, rocks, planets, air, gas–all that good stuff....

So–that’s what you’re made of? Whew! I get it now. All those stars out there. Everywhere, even if we traveled outward to the very edges of the universe, there are atoms. You’re made of atoms!!

Uh, sorry. Not exactly.

No?

No. That is to say, there are atoms and photons of light and other particles everywhere in space. But all that “stuff” makes up only a small percentage of your very favorite universe (yours truly) perhaps about 4%.

Well, tell us what the rest of your...your...your physicality is made of!

I can’t.

You can’t? Why not?

Some of the stuff, you know the stuff I consist of, is “dark.” Dark, in this case, means invisible. Look at it this way–you can’t see your blood vessels can you? You couldn’t tell someone what your blood vessels look like. Well, it’s the same with me.

Well, what can you tell us about the dark stuff?

The stuff we’re talking about has gravity. I can feel it pulling on my galaxies. I think your astronomers call it “dark matter.” Nobody knows exactly what it is. It could consist of big things–say, for example, failed stars that never got started. Or it could be made of teeny, tiny particles. Nobody really knows.

So, this dark matter–it makes up the rest of the universe?

Uh, no. It only makes up 23%.

Well what is the rest of you made of?

This is the scary part. There IS something else–and it’s tearing me apart.

Now, now, don’t get weepy. It will be all right. What do you mean–“tearing you apart”?

I mean REALLY tearing me apart. As in–destroying me.

I’m sure it’s all in your head.

I have no head. And it’s easy for you to say that it will be “all right.” You’ll be dead when it happens.

When what happens?

When I’m torn apart by dark energy.

What is this “dark energy”? Does this have something to do with witchcraft and wizardry?

Don’t be silly. This is very serious stuff. Dark energy is repulsive–literally! Dark energy is pushing everything in the universe apart at a faster and faster rate. It makes up 73% of me and I don’t like it at all. How would you like it if the atoms in your body were racing off in every direction? Talk about an expanding waistline–how about an expanding everything?

Well, that’s what’s happening to me–and it’s causing me to, well I guess you could say “blow out,” at a faster and faster rate! In three trillion years, I’ll be spread all over the place with my galaxies waving good-bye to one another as they fly off into the wild black yonder!

You know, three trillion years is a very long time.

That’s easy for you to say. It doesn’t seem all that long to me.

We all have to die..

Yes, I know. How good of you to remind me.

But I think I’m taking it well. That’s why I say: “Eat, drink, and be merry (well, I can do the last one at least) for tomorrow I may die!”

Hardly tomorrow. But let’s get back to your story. What happened next?

After the Big Bang? I’m afraid it went downhill from there. You can’t have fireworks like that every day. When I’d cooled off a bit, I looked around for something else to do.

There were particles flying everywhere: protons, and electrons, mostly. That’s what I had to work with. So it occurred to me, “What if I stuck some of these particles together? A proton and an electron make a nice pair.” And what do you know? Suddenly I had invented: HYDROGEN! Another great moment in my life.

You might not think hydrogen is a big deal. But if you look around, you’ll see that hydrogen is the most common element in the universe–even today. Ninety percent of all visible matter is hydrogen. And it’s based on such a simple idea–one proton and one electron.

You must have been very proud.

I was–at first. But, to tell you the truth, hydrogen wasn’t all that interesting. It just sat around in big clouds, not doing much of anything. I thought, “Ho hum. That was a dud. I’m going to have a very boring life as a universe.”

Just as I was getting ready to take a nap, I noticed something strange about that hydrogen. It had a tendency to clump. Not that hydrogen is sticky or anything. No. It was gravity pulling all the atoms in those clouds together. And as the clouds got denser and denser, they also got hotter and hotter.

“Uh oh,” I thought. “Something is about to happen.”

I braced myself. But nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

I can’t imagine. What was it?

Well, let me put it this way. Have you ever put up holiday lights? Have you strung them around the eaves of a house or maybe hung them from a tree?

Sure. Every December.

Then you know about that magical moment at night when you turn those lights on for the first time. All you can say is, “WOW!!” Red, blue, green, yellow–every color in the rainbow. It was kind of like that.

All over the universe–everywhere–billions of stars lit up. Those gas clouds had become so hot that they now were burning nuclear fuel. Up until then it had been pretty dark. Not much to see. But at that moment–ZOWIE! Well, it was just like Christmas!

How would you know about Christmas?

I hear rumors.

From a distance, you would have seen dots of light swirling around in spirals. And the spirals linked together into filaments that stretched across space. Billions and billions and billions of stars shaped into whirling galaxies, as far as the eye (if there had been an eye) could see.

So you gave birth to all those stars and galaxies. Is that the end of your story?

Not quite. The most interesting part is yet to come.

All those stars looked so pretty–shining against the backdrop of space–like beautiful baubles. Who would have thought that a terrible fate awaited them. Some of them, anyway.

A tragedy? This doesn’t sound good.

When the first one exploded, well it knocked my socks off.

You don’t have socks.

Whatever. Let’s just say that I hadn’t realized how unstable some of those big stars were. It was quite an explosion. You could see that poor star being blown to smithereens halfway across the universe.

The first star to blow wasn't really one of my favorites. He was a big blue fellow, full of lots of hot air. And he liked to party, burned all his hydrogen at both ends. Not a quiet, dependable star like your sun.

Then other stars began blowing up. I believe the astronomers call them supernovae.

Sad, very sad. To lose perfectly good stars that way. And it must have left a mess...lots of dust and debris.

O.K. I know I'm not much of a housecleaner. That's what the other universes tell me. And, yes, the dust is pretty thick in places. You know the old saying: "The universe abhors a vacuum?" They've misquoted me. What I really said was, "I abhor vacuuming."

But let's talk about a happier topic--and yes, there IS one. From the ashes of these stars something wonderful was born. Something incredible. Who would have guessed...?

Ah, I think I know what you’re talking about.

I’d like to tell the readers. I really would. But you’ve written this wonderful book about me, and I don’t want to spoil it.

I appreciate that. One last question...

Yes?

Will you autograph a few books for us?

Of course.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We’re just having a little fun here. But dark energy and dark matter are very, very real. In fact, astronomers have called dark energy “the greatest scientific mystery” of the century. In her latest book THE MYSTERIOUS UNIVERSE Ellen Jackson takes a serious look at dark energy and dark matter and describes how one dedicated astronomer, Alex Filippenko, is trying to answer the question: “What is dark energy?”

THE MYSTERIOUS UNIVERSE features spectacular photos by Nic Bishop. The book has been called a “shining addition” to the Scientists in the Field series (Kirkus, May, 2008). And Alex Filippenko’s work was termed an exciting “adventure” story taking place on “science’s biggest frontier” by (School Library Journal, June, 2008).