Science of Discworld

A GIANT LEAP FORA MOONKIND

HUMANITY HAS ALWAYS KNOWN the Moon is impor­tant. It often comes out at night, which is useful; it changes, in a sky where change is rare; some of us believe our ancestors live there. That last one might not be capable of experimental verification, but nevertheless humanity in general got it right. The Moon reaches out ghostly tentacles, gravity and light; it may even be our protector.

The wizards are right to worry that they've forgotten to give Roundworld a Moon, though as usual they're worried for the wrong reasons.

The Moon is a satellite of the Earth: we go round the Sun, but the Moon goes round us. It's been up there for a long time, and in its quiet way it's been exceedingly busy. The Moon affects people as well as baby turtles. The main way it affects us is by causing tides. It may affect us in other, less obvious ways, although many common beliefs about the moon are, to say the least, scientifically controver­sial. The female menstrual cycle repeats roughly every four weeks, much the same time that it takes the moon to go round the Earth -one month, in fact, a word that comes from 'moon'. In popular belief this numerical similarity is no coincidence, as for example in 'the wrong time of the month'. On the other hand, the Moon is the epitome of regularity, as predictable as the date of Christmas day, which cannot be said of the menstrual cycle. Lovers, of course, swoon and spoon beneath the Moon in June ... It is also widely held that people go mad when there is a full Moon, or, a more extreme type of madness, those who are suitably afflicted turn into wolves for a night.

The werewolf legend plays a central role in Men at Arms. Most of the time lance-constable Angua of the Ankh-Morpork city watch is a well-built ash-blonde, but when the Moon is full she turns into a wolf who can smell colours and rip out people's jugular veins. But it does play havoc with her private life. 'It was always a problem, growing fangs and hair every full moon. Just when she thought she'd been lucky before, she'd found that few men are happy in a relationship where their partner grows hair and howls.' Fortunately Corporal Carrot is unperturbed by these occasional changes. He likes a girlfriend who enjoys long walks.

The Moon is unusual, and it is quite likely that without it, none of us would be here at all. Not because of the alleged effect on lovers, who find a way Moon or no, but because the Moon protects the Earth from some nasty influences that might have made it dif­ficult for life to have arisen, or at least to have got beyond the most rudimentary forms. What makes the Moon unusual is not that it is a companion to a planet: all of the planets except Mercury and Venus have moons. It is remarkable because it is so big in compari­son to its parent planet. Only Pluto has a satellite, Charon, discovered in 1978 by Jim Christy, that is comparable in relative size to our Moon. It's not stretching things much to say that we live on one half of a double planet.

We know the Moon is very different from the Earth in all sorts of ways. Its gravity is weaker, so it wouldn't be able to keep an atmosphere for very long, even if it had one, which it doesn't by any sensible use of the term. The Moon's surface is rock and rock dust, with no seas anywhere (water easily escapes too), although in 1997 NASA probes discovered substantial quantities of water ice at the Moon's poles, hidden from the warmth of the Sun by the perma­nent shadows of crater walls. That's good news for future lunar colonies, which could act as bases for the exploration of the solar system. The Moon is a good place to start from, because your spaceship doesn't need much fuel to escape the Moon's pull; the Earth is of course a bad place to start from, because down here gravity is so much stronger. How typical of humans to have evolved in the wrong place ...

How was the Moon formed? Did it condense out of the primal dustclouds along with the Earth? Did it form separately and get captured later? Are the craters extinct volcanoes, or are they marks made by lumps of rock smashing into the Moon? We know rather more about the Moon than we do about most other bodies in the solar system, because we've been there. In April 1969, Neil Armstrong stepped down on to the surface of the Moon, fluffed his lines, and made history. Between 1968 and 1972 the United States sent ten Apollo missions to the Moon and back. Of these, Apollos 8,9, and 10 were never intended to land; Apollo-11 was that historic first landing; and Apollo-13 never made it down to the surface, suf­fering a disastrous explosion early in its flight and turning into an excellent movie.

The rest of Apollos 11-17 landed, and between them they brought back 800 lb (400 kg) of moon rock. Most of it is still stored in the Lunar Curatorial Facility in NASA's Johnson Space Center at Clear Lake, Houston; a lot of it has never been seriously looked at at all, but what has been analysed has taught us a lot about the ori­gins and nature of the Moon.

The Moon is about a quarter of a million miles (400,000 km) from the Earth. It is less dense than the Earth, on average, but the Moon's density is very similar to that of the Earth's mantle, a curi­ous fact that may not be coincidence. The same side of the Moon always faces the Earth, though it wobbles a bit. The dark markings on it are called maria, Latin for 'seas', but they're not. They're flat-tish plains of rock which at one time was molten and flowed across the lunar surface like lava from a volcano. Nearly all of the craters are impact craters, where meteorites have smashed into the Moon. There are lots of them because there's a lot of rocks floating about in space, the Moon has no atmosphere to shield it by burning up the rocks through frictional heating, and the Moon has no weather to grind them back down again until they disappear. The Earth's atmosphere is a pretty good shield, but once geologists started looking they found remains of 160 impact craters down here, which is interesting given that a lot of them will have eroded away in the wind and the rain. But more of that when we get to dinosaurs.

Today the Moon always turns the same face to the Earth, which means that it rotates once round its axis every month, the same time that it takes to revolve around the Earth. (If it didn't rotate at all, it would always be pointing in the same direction, not the same direction relative to the Earth, but the same direction period. Imagine someone walking round you in a circle but always facing north, say. Then they don't always face you. In fact, you see all sides of them.) It wasn't always like this. Over hundreds of millions of years, the effect of tides has been to slow down the rotation rates of both Earth and Moon. Once the moon's rotation became synchro­nized with its revolutions round the Earth, the system stabilized. The moon also used to be quite a bit closer to the Earth, but over long periods of time it has moved further and further out.

Between 1600 and 1900 three theories of the formation of the Moon came into vogue and out again. One was that the Moon had formed at the same time as the Earth when the dustcloud con­densed to form the solar system, Sun, planets, satellites, the whole ball of wax ... or rock, anyway. This theory, like early theories of the solar system's formation, falls foul of angular momentum. The Earth is spinning too fast, and the moon is revolving too fast, to be consistent with the Moon condensing from a dustcloud. (We mis­led you earlier when we said that the dustcloud theory explained the satellites too. Mostly it does, but not our enigmatic Moon. Lies-to-children, you see, now you're ready for the next layer of complication.)

Theory two was that the Moon is a piece of the Earth that broke away, maybe when the Earth was still completely molten and spin­ning rather fast. That theory bounced into the bin because nobody could find a pkusible way for a spinning molten Earth to eject any­thing that would remotely resemble the Moon, even if you waited a bit for things to cool down.

According to theory three, the Moon formed elsewhere in the solar system, and was wandering along when it happened to come within the Earth's gravitational clutches and couldn't get out again. This theory was very popular, even though gravitational capture is distinctly tricky to arrange. It's a bit like trying to throw a golfball into the hole so that it goes round and round just inside the rim. What usually happens is that it falls to the bottom (collides with the Earth) or does what every golfer has experienced to their utter hor­ror, and goes in for a split second before climbing back out again (escapes without being captured).

The rock samples from Apollo missions added to the mystery of the Moon's origins. In some respects, Moon rock is astonishingly similar to Earth rock. If they were similar in most respects, this would be evidence for a common origin, and we'd have to take another look at the theory that they both condensed from the same dustcloud. But Moon rock doesn't resemble all Earth rock, only the mantle. The current theory, which dates from the early 1980s, is that the Moon was once part of the Earth's mantle. It wasn't ejected as a result of the Earth's spin: it was knocked into space about four billion years ago when a giant body, about the size of Mars, struck the early Earth a glancing blow. Computer calculations show that such an impact can, if conditions are right, strip a large chunk of mantle from the Earth, and sort of smear it out into space. This takes about 13 minutes (aren't computers good?). Then the ejected mantle, which is molten, begins to condense into a ring of rocks of various sizes. Some of it forms a big lump, the proto-Moon, and this quickly sweeps up most of the rest. What's left doesn't go away so easily, however, but over 100 million years nearly all of it crashes into either the Moon or the Earth, because of gravity.

Because Earth has weather, especially back then, oh boy, did it have weather then, the resulting impact craters all got eroded away; but because the Moon has no weather, the lunar impact craters did­n't get eroded away, and a lot of them are still there now. The great charm of this theory is that it explains many different features of the Moon in one go, its similarity to the Earth's mantle, the fact that its surface seems to have undergone a sudden and extreme amount of heating about 4 billion years ago, its craters, its size, its spin, even those sea-like maria, released as the proto-Moon slowly cooled. The early solar system was a violent place.

In fact, the Dean's mis-designed sun might have done us some good after all ...

The Moon affects life on Earth in at least two or three ways that we know of, probably dozens more that we haven't yet appreciated.

The most obvious effect of the Moon on the Earth is the tides -a fact that the wizards are stumbling towards. Like most of science, the story of the tides is not entirely straightforward, and only loosely connected to what common sense, left to its own devices, would lead us to expect. The common sense bit is that the Moon's gravity pulls at the Earth, and it pulls more strongly on the bit that is closest to the Moon. When that bit is land, nothing much hap­pens, but when it's water, and more than half our planet's surface is ocean, it can pile up. This explanation is a lie-to-children, and it doesn't agree with what actually happens. It leads us to expect that at any given place on Earth, high tide occurs when the Moon is overhead, or at least at its highest point in the sky. That would lead to one high tide every day, or, allowing for a little complexity in the Earth-Moon system, one high tide every 24 hours 50 minutes.

Actually, high tides occur twice a day, 12 hours and 25 minutes apart. Exactly half the figure.

Not only that: the pull of the Moon's gravity at the surface of the Earth is only one ten millionth of the Earth's surface gravity; the pull of the Sun is about half that. Even when combined together, these two forces are not strong enough to lift masses of water through heights of up to 70 feet (21m)- the biggest tidal move­ment on Earth, occurring in the Bay of Fundy between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.

An acceptable explanation of the tides eluded humanity until Isaac Newton worked out the law of gravity and did the necessary calculations. His ideas have since been refined and improved, but he had the basics.

For simplicity, ignore everything except the Earth and the Moon, and assume that the Earth is completely made of water. The watery Earth spins on its axis, so it is subjected to centrifugal force and bulges slightly at the equator. Two other forces act on it: the Earth's gravity and the Moon's. The shape that the water takes up in response to these forces depends on the fact that water is a fluid. In normal circumstances, the surface of a standing body of water is horizontal, because if it wasn't, then the fluid on the higher bits would slosh sideways into the lower bits. The same kind of thing happens when there are extra forces acting: the surface of the water settles at right angles to the net direction of the combined forces.

When you work out the details for the three forces we've just mentioned, you find that the water forms an ellipsoid, a shape that is close to a sphere but very slightly elongated. The direction of elongation points towards the Moon. However, the centre of the ellipsoid coincides with the centre of the Earth, so the water 'piles up' on the side furthest from the Moon as well as on the side near­est it. This change of shape is only partly caused by the Moon's gravity 'lifting' the water closest to it. Most of the motion, in fact, is sideways rather than upwards. The sideways forces push more water into some regions of the oceans, and take it away from others. The total effect is tiny, the surface of the sea rises and falls through a distance of 18 inches (half a metre).

The coast, where land meets sea, is what creates the big tidal movements. Most of the water is moving sideways (not up) and its motion is affected by the shape of the coastline. In some places the water flows into a narrowing funnel, and then it piles up much more than it does elsewhere. This is what happens in the Bay of Fundy. This effect is made even bigger because coastal waters are shallow, so the energy of the moving water gets concentrated into a thinner layer, creating bigger and faster movements.

Finally, let's put the sun back. This has the same kind of effect as the Moon, but smaller. When Sun and Moon are aligned, either both on the same side of the Earth, in which case we see a new moon, or both on opposite sides (full moon), their gravitational pulls reinforce each other, leading to so-called 'spring tides' in which high tide is higher than normal and low tide is lower. These have nothing to do with the season Spring. When the Sun and Moon are at right angles as seen from Earth, at half moon, the Sun's pull cancels out part of the Moon's, leading to 'neap tides' with less movement than normal (these presumably have nothing to do with the season Neap ...).

By putting all these effects together, and keeping good records of past tides, it is possible to predict the times of high and low tide, and the amount of vertical movement, anywhere on Earth.

There are similar tidal effects (large) on the Earth's atmosphere, and (small) on the planet's land masses. Tidal effects occur on other bodies in the solar system, and beyond. It is thought that Jupiter's moon lo, whose surface is mostly sulphur and which has numerous active volcanoes, is heated by being 'squeezed' repeatedly by tidal effects from Jupiter.

Another effect of the Moon on the Earth, discovered in the mid-'90s by Jaques Laskar, is to stabilize the Earth's axis. The Earth spins like a top, and at any given moment there is a line running through the centre of the Earth around which everything else rotates. This is its axis. The Earth's axis is tilted relative to the plane in which the Earth orbits the Sun, and this tilt is what causes the seasons. Sometimes the north pole is closer to the sun than the south pole is, and six months later it's the other way round. When the northern end of the axis is tilted towards the Sun, more sunlight falls on the northern half of the planet than on the southern half, so the north gets summer and the south gets winter. Six months later, when the axis points the other way relative to the sun, the reverse applies.

Over longer periods of time, the axis changes direction. Just as a top wobbles when it spins, so does the Earth, and over 26,000 years its axis completes one full circle of wobble. At every stage, however, the axis is tilted at the same angle (23°) away from the perpendicu­lar to the orbital plane. This motion is called precession, and it has a small effect on the timing of the seasons, they slowly shift by a total of one year in 26,000. Harmless, basically. However, the axes of most other planets do something far more drastic: they change their angle to the orbital plane. Mars, for example, probably changes this angle by 90° over a period of 10-20 million years. This has a dramatic effect on climate.

Suppose that a planet's axis is at right angles to the orbital plane. Then there are no seasonal variations at all, but everywhere except the poles there is a day/night cycle, with equal amounts of day and night. Now tilt the axis a little: seasonal variations appear, and the days are longer in summer and shorter in winter. Suppose that the axis tilts 90°, so that at some instant the north pole, say, points directly at the sun. Half a year later, the south pole points at the Sun. At either pole, there is a 'day' of half a year followed by a 'night' of half a year. The seasons coincide with the day/night cycle. Regions of the planet bake in high heat for half a year, then freeze for the other half. Although life can survive in such circum­stances, it may be harder for it to get going in the first place, and it may be more vulnerable to extremes of climate, vulcanism, or meterorite impacts.

The Earth's axis can change its angle of tilt over very long peri­ods of time, much longer than the 26,000 year cycle of precession, but even over hundreds of millions of years the angle doesn't change much. Why? Because, as Laskar discovered when he did the calculations, the Moon helps keep the Earth's axis steady. So it is at least conceivable that life on Earth owes quite a lot to the calming influence of its sister world, however much it may madden us indi­vidually.

A third influence of the Moon was discovered in 1998: a clear association between tides and the rate of growth of trees. Ernst Ziircher and Maria-Giulia Cantiani measured the diameters of young spruce trees grown in containers in the dark. Over periods of several days the diameters changed in step with the tides. The sci­entists interpret this as an effect of the Moon's gravity on the transport of water within the tree. It can't be variations in moon­light, which would perhaps affect photosynthesis, because the trees were grown in darkness. But the effect may be similar to one that occurs with creatures that live on the seashore. Because they evolved to live there, they have to respond to the tides, and evolu­tion sometimes achieves this by creating an internal dynamic that runs in step with the tides. If you remove the creatures to the labo­ratory, this internal dynamic makes them continue to 'follow' the tides.

The Moon has been important in another way. The Babylonians and Greeks knew that the Moon is a sphere; the phases are obvious, and there is also a slight wobble which means that, over time, humans see rather more than one half of the Moon's surface. There it was, hanging in the sky, a big ball, not a disc like the sun, and a hint that perhaps 'big balls in space' is a much better way of think­ing about the Earth and its neighbours than 'lights in the sky'.

All this is a long way from lance-constable Angua, even a long way from the female menstrual cycle. But it shows how much we are creatures of the universe. Things Up There really do affect us Down Here, every day of our lives.