Nautilus

Beyond the Horizon of the Universe

For two weeks every summer, my parents rented a holiday apartment by the beach in Vlora, an old coastal town along the Adriatic. It was known as Aulona in Greek and Roman times, and was a special place to visit even during 1980s communist Albania. Aulona’s spirit, imprinted on the traditions, superstitions, and landscape of the place, floats outside of time. The town is guarded by a rugged terrain of high mountains, turquoise waters, and black rocks, which blend into silence at sunset. It is a place to dream absurd dreams.

My favorite evening activity was to sit on the deserted sand alone. I watched waves linger at the soundless horizon before breaking rhythmically onto the shore. As night fell, I waited until the line dividing sky and sea blurred away and all boundaries vanished. Of course everybody knew that the world beyond the horizon was strictly forbidden to those of us behind the Iron Curtain. But, sitting in the dark, I was free to imagine. Were kids on the other side of the Adriatic equally enchanted by the edge of the sky we shared? Eventually my dad would come over and, without reprimand, sit on the sand next to me. Then it was the two of us in a hushed conversation with the sky. Before long, he would speak, telling me it was time to leave, and the gentle spell of the sea and the sky would break.

Twenty years later, in 2009, I sat with a few dozen other scientists in a room at the Kavli Institute for Cosmology, Cambridge at the University of Cambridge to watch the launch of the Planck satellite. A muffled buzz filled the room with cautious excitement. Casual conversation would be interrupted by concern over pauses in the live transmission. When the countdown began, the room fell eerily quiet, and with lift-off came deep cheers and loud applause.

Planck was on its way to measure the gentle glow of light left over from the fiery birth of our universe, called the Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB). In its details was a bombshell: anomalies in the distribution of the CMB brightness that could not be the result of anything in our own universe. Here was an empirically observed hidden code pointing to a rich and vast cosmos, in which our own universe is but one humble member. The limits of our range of exploration had suddenly grown immensely. We were at the shore of the multiverse.

You’re reading a preview, subscribe to read more.

More from Nautilus

Nautilus3 min read
A Buffer Zone for Trees
On most trails, a hiker climbing from valley floor to mountain top will be caressed by cooler and cooler breezes the farther skyward they go. But there are exceptions to this rule: Some trails play trickster when the conditions are right. Cold air sl
Nautilus6 min read
How a Hurricane Brought Monkeys Together
On the island of Cayo Santiago, about a mile off the coast of eastern Puerto Rico, the typical relationship between humans and other primates gets turned on its head. The 1,700 rhesus macaque monkeys (Macaca mulatta) living on that island have free r
Nautilus4 min read
Why Animals Run Faster than Robots
More than a decade ago a skinny-legged knee-less robot named Ranger completed an ultramarathon on foot. Donning a fetching red baseball cap with “Cornell” stitched on the front, and striding along at a leisurely pace, Ranger walked 40.5 miles, or 65

Related