Knocking on Heaven's Door (60 page)

Either of these types of experiments could see photons from annihilating dark matter, or from radiation produced by electrons and positrons resulting from dark matter annihilation. If we see either, we stand to learn a lot about the identity and properties of dark matter.

Other detectors look primarily for positrons, the antiparticles of electrons. Physicists working on an Italian-led satellite experiment called PAMELA have already reported their findings, and they look nothing like what was predicted. (See Figure 80 for PAMELA results.) The acronym in this case stands for the mouthful “Payload for Antimatter Matter Exploration and Light-nuclei Astrophysics,” which is somewhat mitigated by the nice way PAMELA sounds when spoken with an Italian accent. We don’t yet know if the PAMELA excess events are due to dark matter or to misestimations of astronomical objects such as pulsars. But either way, the results have absorbed the attention of astrophysicists and particle physicists alike.

[
FIGURE 80
]
Data from the PAMELA experiment, showing how badly experimental data (the crosses) agreed with theoretical predictions (the dotted curve).

Dark matter can also annihilate into protons and antiprotons. In fact, many models predict that this happens most frequently if dark matter particles do indeed find each other and annihilate. However, large numbers of antiprotons lurking in the galaxy due to known astronomical processes can mask the dark matter signal. Still, we might have a chance of seeing such dark matter through antideuterons, which are very weakly bound states of an antiproton and an antineutron, which might also be formed when dark matter annihilates. The Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer (AMS-02), now on the International Space Station, as well as dedicated satellite experiments, such as the General Antiparticle Spectrometer (GAPS), might ultimately find these antideuterons and thereby discover dark matter.

Finally, the uncharged particles called neutrinos that interact only via the weak force could be the key to the indirect detection of dark matter. Dark matter might get trapped in the center of the Sun or the Earth. The only signal that could get out in that case would be neutrinos, since unlike other particles, they won’t be stopped by their interactions as they escape. Detectors named AMANDA, IceCube, and ANTARES are looking for these high-energy neutrinos.

If any of the above signals is observed—or even if they are not—we will learn more about the nature of dark matter—its interactions and its mass. In the meantime, physicists have been thinking about what signal to expect according to predictions from various possible dark matter models. And of course we ask about what any existing measurements might imply. Dark matter is tricky, since it interacts so weakly. But the hope is that with the many different types of dark matter experiments currently in operation, dark matter detection may be within imminent reach, and along with results from the LHC and elsewhere will provide a better sense of what is out there in the universe and how it all fits together.

ROUNDUP

THINK GLOBALLY AND ACT LOCALLY

This book has presented glimpses of how the human mind can explore to the outer limits of the cosmos as well as into the internal structure of matter. In both pursuits, the late Harvard professor Sidney Coleman was considered one of the wisest physicists around. The story students told was that when Sidney applied for a postdoctoral fellowship after finishing graduate school, all except one of his letters of recommendation described him as the smartest physicist they had known—apart from Richard Feynman. The remaining letter was from Richard Feynman, who wrote that Sidney was the best physicist around—though he wasn’t counting himself.

At Sidney’s sixtieth birthday Festschrift celebration—a conference organized in his honor—many of the most notable physicists of his generation spoke. Howard Georgi, Sidney’s Harvard colleague for many years and a fine particle physicist himself, observed that what struck him in watching the succession of talks by these very successful theoretical physicists was how differently they all think.

He was right. Each speaker had a particular way of approaching science and had made significant contributions through his (indeed they were all male) distinctive skills. Some were visual, some were mathematically gifted, and some simply had a prodigious capacity to absorb and evaluate information. Both top-down and bottom-up styles were represented among those present, whose accomplishments ranged from understanding the strong nuclear force in the interior of matter to the mathematics that could be derived using string theory as a tool.

Pushkin was right when he wrote, “Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.” Creativity is essential to particle physics, cosmology, and to mathematics, and to other fields of science, just as it is to its more widely acknowledged beneficiaries—the arts and humanities. Science epitomizes the extra richness that can enhance creative endeavors that take place in constrained settings. The inspiration and imagination involved are easily overlooked amid the logical rules. However, math and technology were themselves discovered and formulated by people who were thinking creatively about how to synthesize ideas—and by those who accidentally came upon an interesting result and had the creative alertness to recognize its value.

In the past few years, I’ve been fortunate to have had a variety of opportunities to meet and work with creative people in different walks of life, and it’s interesting to reflect on what they share. Scientists, writers, artists, and musicians might seem very different on the surface, but the nature of skills, talents, and temperaments is not always as distinctive as you might expect. I’ll now round up our story of science and scientific thinking with some of the qualities I’ve found most striking.

OUTLYING TALENT

Neither scientists nor artists are likely to be thinking about creativity per se when they do something significant. Few (if any) successful people sit down at their desks and decide, “I will be creative today.” Instead, they are focused on a problem. And when I say focused, I mean single-mindedly, can’t-help-but-think-about-it, intently-concentrated-on-their-work focused.

We usually see the end product of creative endeavors without witnessing the enormous dedication and technical expertise that underlie them. When I saw the 2008 film
Man on Wire
, which celebrated Philippe Petit’s 1974 high-wire walk a quarter of a mile up in the air between the twin towers of the World Trade Center—a feat that at the time captured the attention of most New Yorkers like myself, but also many others around the world—I appreciated his sense of adventure and play and skill. But Philippe doesn’t just bolt a tightrope into two walls and wiggle it around. The choreographer Elizabeth Streb showed me the inch-thick book with the many drawings and calculations he did before he installed a wire in her studio. Only then did I understand the preparation and focus that guaranteed the stability of his enterprise. Philippe was a “self-taught engineer,” as he playfully described himself. Only after careful study and application of known laws of physics to understanding his materials’ mechanical properties was he prepared to walk his tightrope. Of course until he actually did it, Philippe couldn’t be absolutely sure he had taken everything into account—merely everything he could anticipate, which, not surprisingly, was enough.

If you find this level of absorption hard to believe, look around. People are frequently transfixed by their activities—whether of small or great significance. Your neighbor does crossword puzzles, your friends sit mesmerized watching sports on TV, someone on the subway is so absorbed in a book she misses her stop—not to mention the countless hours you might spend playing video games.

Those who are preoccupied by research are in the fortunate situation where what they do for a living coincides with what they love—or at the very least can’t bear to neglect. Professionals in this category generally have the comforting idea (albeit possibly illusory) that what they do might have lasting significance. Scientists like to think we are part of a bigger mission to determine truths about the world. We might not have time for a crossword puzzle on a particular day but we will very likely want more time to spend on a research project—especially one connected to a bigger picture and larger goal. The actual act might involve the same sort of absorption as engaging in a game or even watching sports on TV.
⁷⁰
But a scientist is likely to continue thinking about research when driving a car or falling asleep at night. The ability to stay committed to the project for days or months or years is certainly connected to the belief that the search is important—even if only a few might understand it (at least at first)—and even if the trajectory might ultimately prove to be wrong.

Lately it has become fashionable to question innate creativity and talent and attribute success solely to early exposure and practice. In a
New York Times
column, David Brooks summarized a couple of recent books on the subject this way: “What Mozart had, we now believe, was the same thing Tiger Woods had—the ability to focus for long periods of time and a father intent on improving his skills.”
⁷¹
Picasso was another example he used. Picasso was the son of a classical artist and in his privileged environment was already making brilliant paintings as a child. Bill Gates too had exceptional opportunities. In his recent book,
Outliers
,
⁷²
Malcolm Gladwell tells how Bill Gates’s Seattle high school was one of the few to have a computer club, and how Gates subsequently had the opportunity to use the computers at the University of Washington for hours on end. Gladwell goes on to suggest that Gates’s opportunities were more important to his success than his drive and talent.

Indeed, focusing and practice at an early stage so that the methods and techniques become hard wired is unquestionably part of many creative backgrounds. If you have a difficult problem to solve, you want to spend as little time as possible on the basics. Once skills (or math or knowledge) become second nature, you can call them up much more easily when you need them. Such embedded skills often continue operating in the background—even before they push good ideas into your conscious mind. More than one person has solved a problem while asleep. Larry Page told me that the seed idea for Google came to him in a dream—but that was only after he had been absorbed by the problem for months. People often attribute insights to “intuition” without recognizing how much lead time of detailed studies lies behind the moment of revelation.

So Brooks and Gladwell undoubtedly are correct in some respects. Though skill and talent matter, they won’t get you very far without the honing of skills and intensity that comes with dedication and practice. But opportunities at a young age and systematic preparation are not the whole story. This description neglects the fact that the ability to focus and practice so intently is a skill in itself. The exceptional people who learn from what they did before and who can hold the accumulated lessons in their heads are far more likely to benefit from study and repetition. This tenacity allows for concentration and focus that will eventually pay off—in scientific research or any other creative pursuit.

The name of Calvin Klein’s original perfume, “Obsession,” was no accident: he became successful because (in his own words) he was obsessed. Even if golf pros perfect their swing over countless repeated attempts, I don’t believe everyone can hit a ball a thousand times without becoming exceedingly bored or frustrated. My climbing friend, Kai Zinn, who works on difficult routes—hard 5.13s for those in the know—remembers the details and moves much better than I do. When he does a route ten times, he therefore benefits far more. This in turn makes him much more likely to persevere. I’ll get bored and move on and remain a midlevel climber while Kai, who knows how to learn efficiently from repetition, will continually improve. Georges-Louis Leclerc, the eighteenth-century naturalist, mathematician, and author, succinctly summarized this ability: “Genius is only a greater aptitude for patience.” Though I’ll add that it’s also rooted in impatience with lack of improvement.

SCALING A HILL OF BEANS

Practice, technical training, and drive are essential to scientific research. But they are not all that is required. Autistics—not to mention some academics and far too many bureaucrats—frequently demonstrate high-level technical skills yet lack creativity and imagination. All it takes is a trip to the movies these days to witness the limitations of drive and technical achievements without the support of these other qualities. Scenes in which animated creatures fight other animated creatures in hard-to-follow sequences might be impressive accomplishments in themselves, but they rarely possess the creative energy needed to fully engage many of us—even with the light and noise, I frequently fall asleep.