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Never say die

Can the human race live forever? Yes, says Philip Ball, but only if Einstein was wrong about our Universe

KATHERINE Freese and William Kinney don’t look much like superheroes, but this pair of astrophysicists may just have rescued all life in the Universe. And as in all the greatest comic book stories, deliverance has come before most of humanity even knew they needed saving. A couple of years ago, two other physicists announced that the latest cosmological discoveries meant that life in our Universe was doomed. Now Freese and Kinney tell us that it can go on forever.

The ultimate future of life may seem a strange thing for physicists to be debating, but the behaviour of the Universe can tell us about more than just time and space, galaxies and supernovae. Our future in the cosmos is not just a matter of chance circumstances or our own ingenuity. It is circumscribed by the most fundamental laws of nature, written into the fabric of the Universe during the big bang.

Using physics to work out our fate may be a tad speculative, but it’s not unprecedented. Freese, of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, and Kinney, who is at Columbia University, New York, are building on work done by the Princeton physicist Freeman Dyson.

In 1979, Dyson published a study on the thermodynamics of life, using physics to argue that life could last forever in the Universe. His argument is really about life that has consciousness: life that thinks. At some level, thought must be like computation, he says, involving the physical processing of information. Any practical computation depletes its energy source. Dyson assumed that the Universe doesn’t hold infinite sources of energy, so any life would eventually face an energy crisis. But he argued that an organism can stretch out a dwindling energy supply by slowing its metabolism, which is equivalent to operating at a lower temperature, and slowing down the rate at which it performs computations. In other words, it can save energy by thinking more sluggishly.

But even cooling down – and thus slowing down – can’t eke out a finite energy resource forever. That’s because there’s a limit on how cold an organism can get.

Every computation produces heat that has to be radiated away. In order to do this, the organism must remain warmer than its environment, because heat can only flow from a hot object to a cold one. The cosmological data of Dyson’s time indicated that the temperature of the cosmos was dropping more quickly than would the operating temperature of any organism trying to keep thinking. So far, so good.

However, Dyson also realised that, because radiating away heat relies in general on the properties of electrons, quantum mechanics dictates a fundamental limit to how fast the heat can be dissipated. If the organism produces heat faster than its electrons can dissipate it, it is doomed to death by overheating.

The answer, said Dyson, is to “hibernate”. In Dyson’s definition, a hibernating organism essentially stops its metabolism entirely, which means it must stop thinking. Yet it continues to radiate away accumulated waste heat. He showed that a judicious combination of periods of ever-slower activity and spells of hibernation make it possible to perform an infinite number of computations with a finite amount of energy: the organism can go on thinking forever. So, the outlook for life – albeit a strange, sluggish and cold kind of life – is good. Or so we thought.

But bad news was on the way. Recent observations of distant supernovae have shown that the expansion of the Universe, which has been going on since the big bang, is speeding up (èƵ, 11 April 1998, p 26). That’s a problem, as it means our future energy sources may be slipping out of our grasp. In an expanding Universe, the further away an object is from us, the faster it is heading into the distance. At a particular distance, known as the de Sitter horizon, objects are receding at the speed of light. Anything beyond the de Sitter horizon is forever out of reach. So, because of cosmic acceleration, distant parts of the Universe will eventually reach the point of no return. Every galaxy beyond our Local Group – which gravity keeps bound together – is moving inexorably towards our de Sitter horizon. Once they pass it, their light can never reach us.

That means the galaxies will wink out one by one. The space beyond our galactic neighbourhood will begin to appear cold and dark, and we’ll no longer be able to find out anything about it (èƵ, 20 October 2001, p 36). That’s not just a problem for astronomers of the year two trillion. It means that when a galaxy disappears over the de Sitter horizon, we lose a potential source of energy.

The same is true everywhere. All life, wherever it is in the Universe, faces a dwindling energy supply. As Dyson showed, it seems that life can survive such a setback by slowing down its metabolism and hibernating periodically. But the de Sitter horizon does more than create an energy crisis. In the wrong circumstances, it can set a limit to how cold the Universe can get. And if you are a creature trying to operate at ever-lower temperatures, this is very bad news indeed.

The problem stems from a suggestion first made by Stephen Hawking. Whenever there is a horizon beyond which one cannot see or travel – be it a black hole’s event horizon or a de Sitter horizon – this boundary emits a small but significant amount of radiation. The radiation comes from quantum fluctuations that occur in the vacuum of space. These fluctuations continually create pairs of particles and antiparticles. Ordinarily, these particles annihilate one another immediately. But if a pair pops into being close to a de Sitter horizon, one particle can wander over the horizon and became irrevocably separated from its partner before they can cancel each other out. And so one half of the pair is left, adding a contribution to the heat energy in the accessible Universe on our side of the de Sitter horizon. This means that space in an accelerating Universe can never get cooler than a particular temperature, known as the Hawking temperature.

It’s hardly a balmy glow: working from what the supernova data reveals, it’ll be something of the order of 10−29 kelvin. Nevertheless, as we lower our operating temperature to slow down our metabolism, we are eventually going to hit a point where we reach the same temperature as our environment. Then we won’t be able to radiate away waste heat. In other words, although we might be extremely cold, we’ll still fry the moment we try to think.

Cosmologists John Barrow and Frank Tipler were the first to point out this disastrous scenario in their book The Anthropic Cosmological Principle. And then, in 2000, Lawrence Krauss and Glenn Starkman of Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio, published a much more detailed analysis. Their conclusion was stark: given Dyson’s scenario, nothing – not mining the Universe for its energy resources, not even hibernation – could preserve life forever in an accelerating Universe.

But Freese and Kinney have come to the rescue. Krauss and Starkman were looking at what would happen if the Universe’s accelerating expansion were being driven by a particular form of energy: the vacuum energy created by a “cosmological constant”. This constant, whose existence was first suggested by Einstein, is a measure of how much energy is released in empty space when the paired particles and antiparticles created by the vacuum’s quantum fluctuations annihilate each other.

The cosmological constant – if it exists – endows empty space with a repulsive force that causes space-time to expand. It’s the explanation for the Universe’s accelerating expansion that most physicists favour, but there are problems with it. Einstein only proposed its existence to make his theory of general relativity fit the (mistaken) assumption of his time that the Universe was static. And no one can explain why the cosmological constant has the value it apparently does: according to conventional theories, it should be 10120 times larger than astronomical observations suggest.

The cosmological constant is by no means the only way to explain the acceleration. There’s “quintessence”, for example. This idea was first proposed in 1987 by a group that included Freese. The quintessence theory suggests that the energy responsible for the acceleration of the Universe comes partly from the vacuum energy and partly from dark matter, the unobservable – and, as yet, inexplicable – stuff that astronomers must posit to explain why galaxies rotate as they do. The useful thing about quintessence is that the energy accelerating the cosmic expansion need not be constant. “Quintessence is a vacuum energy that changes in time,” Freese says.

Our freezing future

The vacuum energy determines the energy of the particle-antiparticle pairs created by quantum fluctuations of empty space. And this, in turn, determines the temperature that an accelerating Universe is destined to reach once all other sources of energy have disappeared over the de Sitter horizon. So if the vacuum energy is steadily falling, as the quintessence idea suggests, the temperature of the Universe keeps falling too. There’s no temperature limit that would place a limit on life’s longevity.

Another model that Freese has developed is Cardassian expansion, named after the reptilian bad guys of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Like the theory of quintessence, Cardassian expansion allows the temperature of the Universe to keep falling, but unlike quintessence or the cosmological constant it doesn’t invoke vacuum energy. “The only ingredients are ordinary matter and radiation,” Freese says. It might sound like a rather convenient construction, but it is actually a consequence of “brane physics”, a new idea that is fast gaining credibility.

Many physicists now think our visible Universe of three spatial and one time dimension is just one membrane, or brane, embedded in a space that has six or more dimensions (èƵ, 29 September 2001, p 26). When Freese and Daniel Chung of the University of Chicago were looking into this idea, they noticed that the extra dimensions would pull on the brane that we know as our Universe. Working with Michigan graduate student Matthew Lewis, Freese has shown that the pulling of the extra dimensions can in fact cause our Universe to accelerate. The consequences of this Cardassian expansion fit with observational data such as the cosmic background radiation and the age of the Universe.

And Cardassian expansion will also allow us eternal existence. Since there is no vacuum energy in this model, the Universe is simply filled with normal matter and radiation. Our once-hot Universe will cool forever, moving inexorably towards (but never reaching) absolute zero. As long as an organism keeps pace with the background temperature, never cooling below it, it will always be able to radiate away the waste heat generated by computational operations, and keep on going.

So, although the Universe seems to be accelerating, that needn’t be the life-ending catastrophe that Krauss and Starkman predict. “We discovered that any driver of acceleration other than a cosmological constant can probably allow life to persist indefinitely,” says Freese.

Krauss and Starkman’s pessimism isn’t beaten yet, though. They say that when things get very cold quantum-mechanical effects suppress an organism’s ability to radiate away heat, regardless of the background temperature. To lower its energy, an organism must be able to descend onto a lower rung of the ladder of quantum energy states. But, say Krauss and Starkman, the rungs cannot go on forever. Eventually an organism must reach its quantum ground state, and then it has nowhere to go. They raised this as an objection to Dyson, and think it applies to Freese and Kinney’s arguments too.

Kinney thinks cosmological models that involve an ever-changing “dark energy” can provide a way around this difficulty. “If you make space itself dynamic, the expansion of the Universe makes new quantum ground states available to the system, and you can beat Krauss and Starkman’s limit,” Kinney says. He admits it’s a hand-waving argument, based on the fact that the ground-state energy of quantum particles is lowered as they become less tightly confined in the expanding Universe. The matter is far from settled, Kinney says. “Nobody has yet made these kind of arguments really rigorous, so their validity is still a very open question.”

All the physicists involved are still locked in debate over the issues. And since the discussion is based on cosmological speculation, very simple definitions of life and the slippery nature of the Universe’s hidden energy, at the moment it would be unwise to lay bets on whether or not we’ll reach eternity. Kinney concedes that it’s something of a playful diversion from the more ponderous side of cosmology, “especially for somebody like me who was raised on science fiction and comic books,” he says.

Some might say SF has even infiltrated the paper Freese and Kinney have submitted to Physics Letters. The pair have gone so far as to suggest a few far-fetched emergency plans to save the human race (see “The great escape”). But no one is panicking yet. The possible extinction of life in the Universe is not going to be a pressing issue for at least 1040 years. “The timescale in question is immense,” says Krauss. “It’s nothing to sell your stocks about.”

Never say die

The great escape

Life isn’t likely to be much fun if we have to keep functioning at ever-lower temperatures, so it would be nice to find an alternative to these chilling scenarios. Time is on our side: we’ve got trillions of trillions of years to plan ahead for the possible extinction of life in our Universe. Has anyone got any good ideas?

“It is of course hubris to believe that humans can at this point foresee all the ideas that future life forms will come up with to save themselves,” Freese and Kinney point out. But they have come out with a few options all the same. Maybe we could use wormholes, short cuts through space-time that would provide access to energy sources otherwise beyond our reach. “If wormholes exist,” says Freese, “then life forms could travel through them either to mine for energy elsewhere or to move to a more hospitable spot.”

Or we might, they suggest, become able to make a new universe, which could then step into once the old one got too big and lonely. “You create what looks like a small black hole from the laboratory point of view,” says Freese. “However, from the point of someone inside this object, it’ an expanding universe – in fact an accelerating one – dominated by a cosmological constant.” This synthetic universe would be reminiscent of Dr Who’s Tardis. “From our end, the new universe will appear to be a micro black hole,” says Kinney, “but the interior of the black hole will actually contain an enormously large space.” Getting into it, he admits, would be a problem. “Don’t ask me how we’re supposed to do that.”

  • “The ultimate fate of life in an accelerating Universe” by Katherine Freese and William Kinney,
  • “Life, the Universe, and nothing: life and death in an ever-expanding Universe” by Lawrence Krauss and Glenn Starkman, Astrophysical Journal, vol 531, p 22 (2000)

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