Experimental Verification

The supermassive galactic stars that die in GRBs should still be visible from earth at extreme red shifts (around ten) corresponding to an epoch roughly thirteen billion years ago. Indeed, as the first luminous objects created after the Big Bang, they mark the very edge of the visible universe. They have been classified by astronomers as Active Galactic Nucleus (AGN) galaxies, and are currently explained as supermassive black holes that are actively consuming matter swirling around them in large accretion disks. True, such phenomena (typically called quasars) do, in fact, generate tremendous energy, and it is also true that the collapse of a galactic star leads to a supermassive quasar as the black hole consumes the remainder of its neutron core. Still, some fraction of these AGN observations should be intact galactic stars. Exactly what fraction depends on the relative longevity of galactic stars and quasars, and that question forces us to consider a rather bizarre possibility.

It is well known that the life-span of a star drops precipitously as its mass increases. For a galactic star of a ten million solar masses, this implies a disturbingly short life, possibly on the order of only years or decades. If that turns out to be true, these objects will be hard to catch in the act. But if one is found, it might be worth the expense to train a telescope on it permanently, on the assumption that it will explode in a GRB in a reasonable time-frame. The current AGN theory, like the current GRB theory, is hamstrung by the notion that galactic stars are physically impossible. Since we now know this is untrue, these huge stars need to be among the primary targets of astronomers’ telescopes.

< Helium Abundance     Table of Contents >

Helium Abundance

The last question this chapter set out to answer concerns the high percentage of helium in the universe. Now that we have supermassive stars that are prodigious nucleosynthetic engines, the mystery is solved. In addition to the galactic stars I’ve been describing, it is certain that many first generation “normal” stars were thousands of solar masses, much larger than the current theory allows. Not only would helium—because of both its simplicity and stability—be the predominant atomic product of the initial bombardment of the proton cloud by the neutron cloud, but helium would also be created (via the alpha decay process) in massive quantities by the subsequent decay of all the unstable isotopes. It would also, because of its binding energy, survive the GRB in relatively large quantities, along with other stable atoms such as iron, carbon, and oxygen. And, in general, it is the combination of these three events—rapid nucleosynthesis, radioactive decay, and the subsequent GRB—that explains the abundances of elements in the universe. Once again, nuclear fusion is not a relevant phenomenon, either in stars or anywhere else. The binding energy curve from helium to iron creates the illusion that stars are powered by releasing that energy in successive fusion events. That theory certainly seemed plausible, but it just isn’t the case (a fact I will demonstrate in a different way in Chapter 5). Binding energies are relevant, to be sure, but only because they determine which elements will tend to survive the extreme stresses introduced by the GRB.

< GRB Pulses     Experimental Verification>

GRB Pulses

I just described what could be called a generic GRB. But astronomical observations have shown that GRBs have a wide variety of energy signatures, typically coming in a series of pulses. There are several possible candidates for these pulses but, quite honestly, I don’t know which of them is the most important. When the first cloud of neutrons explodes, the blast will inevitably send yet another shock wave into the remaining neutron core. And that shock wave will also rebound off the center, bounce back to the surface, and rip off another layer of the core’s skin. This second cloud of neutrons could easily be even more powerful than the first, because, unlike the first cloud, it will not find any protons with which to form stable atoms. All the elements have already been blasted away by the first explosion. How many of these neutron blasts, shock waves, neutron expulsions, and subsequent explosions a given GRB can sustain, almost certainly depends on its mass (just like everything else about stellar phenomena). The size, strength, and speed of formation of the supermassive black hole at the center of the neutron core will also place an upper limit on the number of pulses. As the black hole swallows the core—a phenomenon known as a quasar—additional blasts and shock waves will be quickly attenuated.

It might seem at first that the pulses just mentioned would have to be at least ten minutes apart, since that is the time needed to account for two consecutive neutron decay events. However, once the skin of the neutron core is exposed, the neutrons near the surface begin decaying immediately. By the time the shock wave from the first blast tears a second cloud from that skin, the neutrons are already well on their way to decaying. They haven’t completely decayed yet because their “decay clock” runs somewhat slower in the extreme gravitational field of the star; neutron decay rate is related to the pressure they are under. Once blasted away from the star, this second batch of neutrons decays much more quickly than the first, because their decay is already well underway. Moreover, because all the neutrons in this entire phenomenon are subjected to very nearly the same conditions, the actual moment of decay will be much the same for all of them. The concept of a half-life, as we will see, is not a matter of quantum uncertainty, but of a lack of knowledge regarding the true state of the system in question. Therefore, it is reasonable to expect each successive pulse to be much closer together than the expected ten minutes.

Another possibility for some of the pulses (and these candidates are not mutually exclusive) is the successive decay of various unstable isotopes. The first big blast is caused primarily by free neutrons, but there are many atomic isotopes that decay within only seconds of their formation. If we consider the sheer quantity of such isotopes that are created when the neutron skin is thrown into the proton mantle, it is reasonable to assume that, as these isotopes decay in reverse order of stability, the ensuing explosions would appear as a series of energetic gamma ray pulses. The strength and duration of these pulses will depend very sensitively on the exact ratio of neutrons to protons during this rapid nucleosynthetic process. They will also depend on how far into the receding mantle matter the neutrons are flung. If the proton and neutron clouds are mixed together extensively then, all else being equal, a lower ratio of unstable isotopes is formed than if, say, the neutrons are tossed only about halfway into the proton cloud and are forced to make whatever they can of the few protons at their disposal. The strength of the ensuing explosions, in turn, dictates the power of any subsequent shock waves impinging on the remaining neutron core. And that dictates the strength of the next explosion. And on and on and on. Needless to say, the possibilities are practically endless, and so it is no surprise that GRBs come in so many varieties.

Here is yet another consideration. Some GRBs (as well as some supernovae) have a strong hydrogen spectral line while others do not. If the neutron skin is catapulted all the way through the proton cloud, virtually every proton will be captured to form complex atoms. If, on the other hand, the neutron cloud penetrates only half of the proton cloud (as in the diagram above), the leading edge of the GRB (or supernova) will be composed entirely of hydrogen. In all of the variations we are considering, the mass of the galactic star is decisive. In time, it should be possible to categorize these differences and use them to determine the relative masses of the parent stars.

< Gamma Ray Bursts & Nucleosynthesis     Helium Abundance >

Gamma Ray Bursts and Nucleosynthesis

So far we’ve been discussing the dynamics of what are referred to as main sequence stars. Such stars burn protons on their neutrogenic shells, gradually accumulating neutrons in their cores. As mentioned, nuclear fusion is not a relevant phenomenon, and so these stars do not burn at different temperatures depending on which elements they happen to be fusing. Our sun, for example, should burn at an almost perfectly constant temperature until it begins its death throes.

There is an obvious tipping point that pushes a star off the main sequence—specifically, the point at which the diameter of its neutron core becomes equal to the diameter of its neutrogenic shell. This is when interesting things start to happen. In the supermassive stars we are considering here, the protons in the core are converted to neutrons fairly quickly because of the low ratio of mantle matter to core surface area. When the core runs out of protons, the shell simply vanishes. After all, the shell was nothing more than the locale at which protons were converted into neutrons. No protons means no shell. When the shell vanishes, there are no longer any expanding partettes to either push down against the neutron core or push up against the infalling mantle. Such a situation (fig. 18), though it doesn’t last very long, is one of the truly astounding moments in the universe. With the disappearance of the shell, the neutron core is, in essence, exposed. That is, it instantly begins behaving as a supermassive neutron star!

If you are not a physicist or astronomer this may not be as striking a situation as it should be, but a neutron star of ten million solar masses possesses more energy than anything since the Big Bang itself. The instant the shell disappears, our newly minted neutron star pulls the mantle down onto its surface with cataclysmic ferocity, sending a tremendous shock wave down into the star. The mantle matter rebounds off the surface and is catapulted into space (fig. 19) while the shockwave bounces off the center and back to the surface. When it hits the surface it rips off a significant fraction of the core’s outer skin and sends it flying out into space right into the receding mantle matter. The neutrons from the star’s skin and the protons from the mantle are mixed together in copious amounts, creating most of the complex atoms currently found in our galaxy. What happens next is even more spectacular.

Only some certain fraction of the neutrons ripped off the star will find happy homes within stable atoms. The rest—probably the majority—either remain completely exposed to space or find themselves in various unstable, neutron-rich isotopes. In either case, there is only one possible fate for all of these extra neutrons: decay. Over the course of the next few minutes, all of the neutrons that didn’t end up in atoms will decay all the way down to the level of undifferentiated spacetime (fig. 20). Recall, neutrons, having less intrinsic mass than protons, cannot decay into protons, an issue I will address in much more detail later. Unbelievable as it may sound, a quantity of neutrons that can be measured in solar masses is completely converted from mass to energy in just a matter of minutes. In normal stars this event is what we know as a supernova. In supermassive galactic stars, it is known as a gamma ray burst.

The cloud of decaying neutrons is roughly spherical and so there are two interesting regions of the explosion, both inside and outside the sphere. Inside the sphere, the force of the blast is focused directly onto the very center of the neutron star. If the blast is strong enough (as it always is in a galactic star), it will collapse some fraction of the star all the way down to the level of spacetime, crushing the partettes, creating a black hole in the center. If it is not strong enough (as in much smaller stars), it will simply leave the neutron star behind. Neutrons are not created by smashing electrons (which don’t really exist) into protons (which already possess more intrinsic mass than neutrons to begin with). Outside the sphere, the newly created atoms are blasted with tremendous force out into the galaxy. Also, the force of the blast bombards the atoms, accelerating the decay of many of the less stable isotopes. It is this blast, along with the combination of elements created in the initial mixing, that accounts for the abundances of various elements in the universe. Those with the highest binding energies are those least likely to be annihilated by the explosion. And that is why, for example, iron is so common—not because it is the heaviest element that can be created by nuclear fusion without adding energy.

I said the cloud of neutrons around the star was roughly spherical. In fact, the mass tends to concentrate more in the galactic plane than around the poles. This happens because, as the mantle collapses onto the surface, it spins down toward the equator in order to conserve angular momentum. As a result, the subsequent GRB has a slight bias in the plane of the galaxy and is not entirely spherical. However, neither is it, as the current model suggests, concentrated into two narrow jets emanating from the poles. That theory came from the inability of the standard model to conceive of anything large enough to generate the power of a spherical GRB. If it were concentrated in two polar jets, most of the complex atoms created in the process would be blasted away at right angles to the plane of the disk, significantly impoverishing the host galaxy and making our metal-rich solar system, for example, much harder to explain.

< Stellar Lifespan     GRB Pulses >

Stellar Lifespan

If what I have said so far about the neutrogenic shell were the end of the story, something very curious—and contrary to experimental evidence—would have to be the case. We’ve seen that the pressure on the shell is a universal constant. And that seems to imply that the rate of neutrogenesis per unit area of any shell is also a universal constant. But if that were true, large stars would live longer than small ones, and exactly the opposite has been observed. Massive stars burn through their hydrogen in only a few million years, whereas stars much smaller than our sun have been around since stars first formed, twelve to thirteen billion years ago. This is puzzling because the ratio of a sphere’s volume to its surface area increases as its diameter increases. This implies that a greater percentage of a small star’s protons is burning on the shell at any given time. And if the shell must maintain a constant pressure, it seems that large stars must take longer than small ones to burn up their protons.

The answer to this puzzle has to do with the other major equilibrium condition in a star—its hydrostatic equilibrium. A star’s neutrogenic shell, by liberating partettes that gradually expand, generates an intense spacetime pressure gradient, and hence a powerful gravitational field. Indeed, this pressure gradient is the star’s gravitational field. The larger the shell, the more powerful the field. And the more powerful the field, the less mass must be located above it, in the star’s mantle, in order to generate the necessary pressure to trigger neutrogenesis on the shell. Because of this variation in gravitational field strength, the same quantity of matter has a greater effect in a large star than it does in a small star. Put simply, the same quantity of mass is heavier on a large star than on a small one. As a result, the ratio of mass in a star’s mantle to the mass in its core is inversely proportionate to the total mass of the star. Large stars have relatively thin mantles, while small stars have relatively thick ones. Consequently, the spacetime liberated from protons on the neutrogenic shell has to fight its way past much more mass in order to escape from a small star than it does to escape from a large one. Or, to put it another way, the fraction of the equilibrium pressure on the shell of a given star that is contributed by the mantle is inversely proportionate to the star’s mass. In a large star, it is primarily its cosmological equilibrium that maintains the shell pressure. In a small star, the hydrostatic equilibrium is dominant. Essentially, the liberated spacetime in a small star is trapped under the massive mantle, right next to the shell, and it takes eons for it to percolate up and out of the star. This state of affairs means that small stars only burn a tiny fraction—compared to large stars—of their hydrogen, per unit area, in order to maintain their shells’ pressure. Therefore, small stars live much longer than large ones, despite having a lower ratio of core mass to shell surface area.

< The Neutrogenic Shell     Gamma Ray Bursts & Nucleosynthesis >

The Neutrogenic Shell

We now have good reason to believe that the pressure exerted by a star emanates from a spherical shell located at a distance from the core that is proportionate to the star’s total mass. The shell is generated by the gravitational pressure exerted on it by the star’s mantle (fig. 17). And because only a certain specific amount of mantle matter is required in order to trigger the mass/energy conversion we are about to investigate, any matter that is not necessary to maintain this hydrostatic equilibrium will remain in the star’s core. Hence, the larger the star, the smaller the fraction of it that must be located above the shell, and the larger the shell can become. The mass of a star, therefore, dictates only the diameter of the shell, not its pressure per unit area. That pressure, as we’ve seen, is a universal constant. So, now we need to know exactly what is happening on that shell in order to maintain both the star’s hydrostatic as well as cosmological equilibrium.

Of the three questions with which we started this chapter, the most important one dealt with the uniform mass of neutrons everywhere in the universe. We have since discovered a universal constant in the form of a shell that is responsible for maintaining a star’s dual equilibria. It doesn’t take much imagination to see that this shell is the site of neutron creation. The neutrogenic shell has the same surface pressure in all stars, and all neutrons have the same mass—a mass, like the proton’s, that is dictated by the pressure under which it is created.

When a proton from the stellar core migrates onto the neutrogenic shell, the pressure there is so high that the number of partettes in that particle no longer represent an ideal balance between the pressure of each partette and the pressure exerted by the particle as a whole. In particular, the ambient pressure on the shell decreases the ideal number of partettes, causing a very specific number of them to migrate out of the proton. On the shell, the inherent repulsivity of the partettes briefly takes over. Once liberated, the partettes do what they’ve wanted to do since they were trapped in the equilibrium condition of a proton immediately after the Big Bang—they expand. As they expand, they push down against the neutrogenic shell and up against the mantle, as well as the rest of the universe. These liberated partettes account for the energy of a star. Nuclear fusion has nothing to do with it. The particle that is left over, after these few partettes have been liberated, reflects the equilibrium conditions on the neutrogenic shell. A proton has been transformed into a neutron.

Once a neutron is created, it remains within its equilibrium range as long as it stays inside the shell, within the core of the star. Inside the core, free neutrons are completely stable and are under no obligation to form complex atoms. Only when the ambient pressure drops below a neutron’s equilibrium pressure must it seek out a proton in order to maintain its stability. At core pressure, neutrons and protons mill around randomly, more or less indifferent to one another. The core does not gradually fill with atoms of progressively greater complexity, creating onion-like layers of different elements. It does not heat up in successive collapses as it fuses progressively heavier elements. Rather, the core gradually fills with neutrons which migrate into the center, pushing the remaining protons up into the shell where they are converted into neutrons. Once this equilibrium state commences, little or nothing changes until the star leaves the main sequence.

One important question that arises from these ideas involves the relative masses of protons and neutrons. Current theory and experiment have shown that a neutron is somewhat more massive than a proton. And yet I’ve just argued that a neutron is actually somewhat less massive. I point this out now simply to alert the reader that I am very aware of this discrepancy, and to assure you that the explanation of this phenomenon is among the more important aspects of the entire theory. However, I have not yet presented enough information to explain it in detail in this chapter. Aside from the collapse of infinite space over the course of eternity, mass is as abstract and fundamental as reality gets; it deals with the very nature of existence. And for that reason it also deals with the nature of space and time, and their interactions in the complex forms of matter I am in the process of describing. For now, it is enough to point out that mass is a complex relationship between the quantity of spacetime in a thing and the behavior of that thing—recall the distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic mass. Since protons and neutrons behave differently, the quantity of spacetime is not the only consideration when calculating their masses. By way of foreshadowing, the instability of neutrons means they are much more energetic (they move faster) at SEP, and their great convective velocity results in a type of nuclear mass dilation. Hence, it is possible for a neutron to be composed of less stuff, and still weigh more than a proton. A major consequence of this fact—and one to which I will return over and over—is that a proton, possessing more partettes than a neutron, cannot be among a neutron’s decay products.

< Galactic Stars (part 3)     Stellar Lifespan >

Galactic Stars (continued)

The heliopause, or cosmological equilibrium, of a star can be understood as a vast sphere with a radius equal to the distance at which the outward pressure of the star is balanced by the inward pressure from the ambient spacetime of the cosmos. The relevant characteristic of this huge sphere is its pressure per unit of surface area. This sphere defines the location at which the pressure of the star is equal to the pressure of the cosmos in general, and that pressure is just the equilibrium pressure of spacetime itself. For any given unit of surface area on the heliopause, there is a corresponding unit of surface area on the star. The total pressure on any two corresponding units must be equal. This implies a generally low pressure over a very large area on the heliopause, and a very high pressure over a very small area on the star. The inverse square law can be used to quantify this proportional relationship.

If we start way out at the heliopause with the vacuum pressure, and use the inverse square law to calculate backwards, back toward the star, we can figure out how much pressure can be exerted on any given region of space (fig. 16). We can do this because any given sphere, between the star and its heliopause, must have a total pressure that is equal to that of the heliopause. And that means, if we know the radius of the sphere in question, we can calculate exactly how much pressure can be exerted on any chosen unit of surface area on that particular sphere (at that particular radial distance from the star). Moreover, if we continue selecting smaller and smaller spheres, we will eventually find one that exhibits a very interesting characteristic.

The inverse square law—as applied to this phenomenon—states that the pressure on any given region of space decreases as the square of the distance from the star. But viewed from the opposite perspective, it also states that the pressure increases as the square of the distance from the heliopause. And it is this opposite perspective that is decisive. As we move from the heliopause toward the star, the size of the standard unit of surface area on any given sphere decreases at the same exponential rate that the pressure increases, eventually reaching zero. That is, because the pressure per unit area must remain constant even as that unit area shrinks exponentially, there comes a point at which that area is infinitesimal. As it turns out, the point of maximum allowable outward pressure of a star per unit area—where that unit area is zero—is located within the star, but at some considerable distance from the star’s center of gravity. It is not located at the very center of the star. As you might imagine, this has some incredible consequences.

We can think of this strange point of maximum allowable pressure as a shell within the star. Inside of this shell is the core. Outside of it is the mantle. Every single point on the shell corresponds to a unit of surface area on the heliopause of the star. And for that reason, the shell and not the core is the site of maximum pressure anywhere in the star. The pressure in the very center of the star is actually somewhat lower than the pressure on the shell, some distance from the center. Moreover, the pressure on this shell is identical in all stars, regardless of mass, though the diameter of the shell is proportionate to the star’s mass. This is so because the shell represents the location at which any given point is exactly balanced by the cosmos as a whole. And according to both the inverse square law and the equilibrium state of spacetime, any such point must always exert the same pressure.

A critical fact emerges from this reasoning. The shell (we’ll call it the neutrogenic shell for reasons that will soon be apparent) exerts a spherically symmetrical force on the star’s core, and that means the pressure in the core is the same everywhere. The core does not become denser as we approach the center, and that means there is no pressure gradient, and that means the core does not exert its own gravitational pull. If you still aren’t comfortable with spacetime pressure gradients and gravity, you can instead recognize that the shell’s symmetrical force flattens the spacetime geometry inside the core, and no curvature means no gravity. For many, though by no means all, applications, traditional spacetime and the spacetime of this book are theoretically equivalent. And, if the core does not exert its own gravitational pull, then there is no upper limit on the mass of a star. The core can be a billion solar masses and still not collapse, because there simply isn’t any gravity in there to collapse it. Of course, the mass of the star as a whole dictates the diameter of the neutrogenic shell, and the shell does generate the star’s gravitational field. So, at least in that regard, mass is still proportionate to gravity. But because the gravitational force is not focused on the center of the star, but is instead distributed evenly across the entire surface area of the neutrogenic shell, the star does not collapse no matter how big it gets. The supermassive black hole currently occupying the core of the Milky Way galaxy got its start as a galactic star.

< Galactic Stars (part 1)     The Neutrogenic Shell>

Galactic Stars

If the theory of the Big Bang from the first chapter is correct, the asymmetric manner in which protons were created and subsequently ejected from the filaments that spawned them, is more than sufficient to explain their eventual gravitational aggregation into large clouds and, finally, protostars. This theory also requires that all first generation stars be composed entirely of hydrogen, because the equilibrium conditions during the Big Bang can only explain protons, not neutrons. To make things interesting, let’s start with a protostar (actually a protogalaxy) of at least ten million solar masses. In the early universe, dense and rich with matter, gigantic hydrogen clouds such as this would have been commonplace. The standard model states unequivocally that such an enormous mass would immediately collapse under its own weight into a supermassive black hole (indeed, into the ones currently occupying the cores of galaxies), without going through a main sequence stage at all. This theory is not correct. Supermassive black holes came from supermassive galactic stars. And though these stars are long extinct, there is very good evidence that they existed.

Our first question is: What could possibly prevent such a massive star from completely collapsing? The standard model says that the gravitational force of such a star would far exceed any outflow of energy from hydrogen fusion. It could not maintain a hydrostatic equilibrium and would continue collapsing through both electron and neutron degeneracy pressures all the way down to a black hole. And indeed, this is more or less what would happen were it not for one major oversight of the standard model: the cosmological equilibrium.

In a hydrogen atom, any outward pressure is met by an equal and opposite inward pressure exerted by the ambient spacetime at or near its equilibrium pressure (the vacuum pressure). The proton’s south polar jet pushes up against the electronic shell, which is nothing more than the radius at which the outward pressure of that jet is balanced by the inward pressure of spacetime. I call this the proton’s cosmological equilibrium, because the ambient pressure of spacetime, though not exactly constant everywhere in the universe, is very near its equilibrium value, at least by comparison to extreme locations such as stellar cores or atomic nuclei. Every expansive phenomenon in the universe must contend with this inward pressure, and must be explained in terms of it. Stars are no exception.

Stars burn by converting mass into energy. This energy, flowing outward, maintains a star’s hydros-tatic equilibrium by pushing back against the gravitationally infalling matter from the star’s mantle. It is also, once it clears the star completely, responsible for the solar wind. But that isn’t the end of the story. This outward pressure of a star pushes against the whole cosmos, and the cosmos pushes right back. If we travel out from a star (trillions of miles at least) we will find a location where the outward pressure of the star is exactly equal to the vacuum pressure. This radius could be thought of as a star’s gravitational event horizon; gravitational, because it is the location where the spacetime pressure gradient of the star is equaled by the pressure of the cosmos as a whole. The star has no gravitational influence beyond the point at which its pressure gradient ceases to exist. It is usually referred to as the heliopause, and that is the term I will use as well. Using the inverse square law, we can calculate the total surface area of the heli-opause. And since we already know the vacuum pressure, we can calculate the total pressure exerted on this sphere. This pressure, pushing back against the star, cannot be exceeded by the outward pressure of the star itself. And this limit to the pressure of a star dictates nearly all of its characteristics.

As the supermassive protostar we are considering collapses under the collective gravitational pull of its constituent hydrogen atoms, its pressure gradually increases, finally reaching the point at which mass/energy conversion can begin. As mentioned, nuclear fusion is not the mechanism governing this conversion, and I will leave open for the moment exactly what is going on. For now it is enough to refer generically to some as-yet-undefined type of mass/energy transformation that pushes out against the gravitationally infalling stellar mass. Mass/energy conversion begins as soon as the pressure somewhere in the collapsing mass is minimally sufficient to trigger it. At first, this is clearly going to be at the very center of the new star, since that is where the pressure is the highest and first reaches the minimum necessary value. But once the process begins, the star’s cosmological equilibrium begins to take over.

Even after the star begins burning, additional hydrogen from the protostellar cloud continues falling into the star, increasing its mass. According to the standard model, this increasing mass increases the core pressure, which, in turn, increases the rate of hydrogen fusion. That increased rate of fusion is sufficient to maintain the hydrostatic equilibrium of the growing star, at least up to a critical mass. After that point, the star becomes so massive that no rate of burn can balance the gravitational pull, and the star collapses in on itself to become a black hole. Only hydrogen clouds smaller than this critical mass can form stable stars. The supermassive hydrogen clouds we are examining here are thought to have collapsed directly into the huge black holes that still occupy the centers of all known spiral galaxies. However, there is another possibility.

When the pressure in the center of the new star is high enough to trigger mass/energy conversion, the liberated energy begins pushing out, not only against the star’s mantle, but also against the whole cosmos, way out at the heliopause. A complete picture of this phenomenon, then, must include both its hydrostatic as well as its cosmological equilibrium. As hydrogen from the protostellar cloud continues falling into the star, increasing its mass, the rate of burn in the core cannot simply increase, unchecked, in direct proportion to the increasing pressure. If it did, the outward pressure of the star would exceed the inward pressure of the ambient spacetime (i.e., the universe as a whole). There is, therefore, an upper limit to this outward pressure. And yet massive stars clearly burn much hotter and brighter than smaller stars. So what gives?

< Chapter 3: Neutrons     Galactic Stars (Continued)>

The theory developed in the previous chapter dealt with the genesis of protons out of spacetime during the Big Bang. It explained a great deal, including the basic elements of the EM spectrum of hydrogen, but there’s already a fly in the ointment. Anyone familiar with modern cosmology will immediately point out that neutrons were not among the particles discussed. And without neutrons, neither helium nor lithium could have formed, despite the fact that the formation of these elements just after the Big Bang is a fundamental part of the standard model. According to the theory I am developing here, there is no such thing as Big Bang nucleosynthesis, because there were no neutrons available to form complex atoms. This aspect of the theory is a potential problem because it is well known that there is considerably more helium in the universe (roughly ten percent of its total baryonic mass) than can be explained by stellar nucleosynthesis alone. There simply aren’t now, nor have there ever been, enough stars, as they are currently understood, to account for all of this helium. My new theory of nucleosynthesis must make up this deficit.

Another challenge of this theory is to explain the curious uniformity of neutrons the universe over. The pressure under which protons formed was decisive for determining their complement of partettes. It is reasonable to assume that neutrons also depend on a particular pressure to determine their mass. And yet stars come in all different sizes, which would seem to imply that they have all different internal pressures. More mass means more gravity which means higher pressure. Different pressures should give rise to particles of different mass, because the number of partettes necessary to maintain equilibrium is inversely proportionate to the pressure under which they formed. High pressures would create smaller particles with fewer partettes, while lower pressures would create larger particles with more partettes. Yet there is no evidence that neutrons, regardless of where they came from, vary by the slightest amount. The neutrons that make up my computer keyboard are the same as neutrons in the Andromeda Galaxy. This vexing issue is not even addressed by the standard model, but it will be the primary consideration of the theory to follow.

Finally, this new theory must take seriously the colossal energies released by gamma ray bursts (GRBs) and supernova explosions. The standard model argues that a star’s core gradually fills with metals (astrophysics refers to all elements heavier than helium as metals) as it burns progressively heavier elements in a series of fusion reactions. The star runs out of fuel when it either generates a large iron core (iron being the heaviest element that liberates energy during fusion) or, if it is a smaller star, when its gravitational force is exceeded by the nuclear binding energy of whichever element it last created. In either case, the only thing left over to account for the death of a star, supernova or otherwise, is the gravitational energy of a heavy metallic core. Despite the heroic efforts of mathematical physicists, there is simply no way to explain the energy of a supernova with nothing more to work with than a hot, metallic ball. And, as we’ll see, the standard model completely collapses when confronted with the most energetic phenomena in the universe—gamma ray bursts. What I will show, unbelievable as it might sound, is that nuclear fusion has nothing to do with how a star generates its energy. The cosmic abundances of elements as well as their binding energies—the primary clues used to justify the standard model—may well be the greatest red herrings of all time.

< Chapter 2: Protons – Intrinsic and Extrinsic Mass     Galactic Stars >

Ex Nihilo

The tension between infinite and Euclidean geometries is a conceptual subtlety. Logic dictates that the apparent presence of a paradox is evidence of an error in reasoning. It is most definitely not evidence that reality itself is paradoxical. And yet the void is infinite, while the four dimensions of space and time are decidedly Euclidean. Theoretical or not, this tension is real. The entities to which this tension applies are dimensionless, infinitesi- mal points—the fundamental elements of any geometry. Being infinitesimal, a point has no mass, no size, no extent of any kind. It is, at least from a Euclidean perspective, non-existent, a mere abstraction. And so, whether or not it makes any sense to say so, it would require no effort to move such an entity. Having no mass, no force is required to push a point around. Or again, having zero mass, a zero force would suffice to move a point, particularly if we had an eternity over which to apply such a force. And, as luck would have it, we have exactly the right force for the job—the theoretical tendency of points to merge in order to reconcile the contradiction between infinite and Euclidean geometries.

The tension between points in the void is purely conceptual, a zero force. However, given that the entities to which this force applies are also purely conceptual and have zero mass, and that an infinite temporal span is available over which to apply this force, it is not only possible, but absolutely certain, that points will gradually coalesce. Though this tension is apparently non-existent, so too are the points to which it applies. In essence, eternity transforms nothing into something, just as it turns something into nothing. Infinite time and infinite space come together and give rise to spacetime, the fundamental substance of reality.

<Eternity          Collapse >