The Butterfly Effect Is Why It's Impossible to predict Weather.

You've probably heard that a butterfly can flap its wings in Brazil and set off a tornado in Texas. This is known as the butterfly effect, and while it shows up in everything from metaphors for human connection to the behavior of the stock market (not to mention an arguably low point in Ashton Kutcher's career), it got its start with a mild-mannered meteorology professor named Edward Lorenz. Just by rounding a few decimal points, he changed science forever.

Breezy With a Change Of Butterflies.

One day in 1961, Lorenz was working in his office at MIT, entering data into a newfangled computer program designed to simulate weather patterns. The simulation was a repeat of one he'd run already, but this time he rounded off one of his 12 variables from .506127 to .506. Then he left his office to grab some coffee while the computer crunched the numbers.

When he came back, though, it was clear that something was very, very wrong. That tiny change in his data led to a drastic transformation, completely changing two months of simulated weather. Instead of small changes leading to other small changes, Lorenz realized that small changes could have huge consequences. He published his findings in 1963, and the idea came to be known as "sensitive dependence on initial conditions" in scientific circles. It got the much snappier "butterfly effect" moniker after Lorenz compared it to the idea that the flap of a butterfly's wings could affect the weather in a 1972 conference presentation.

That discovery was huge. As far back as Isaac Newton, scientists believed that everything in nature was predictable. That is to say, even if we don't have the means to predict everything now, it's conceivable that scientific knowledge could become advanced enough to predict the behavior of the entire universe. But Lorenz's discovery showed that even the tiniest quirk can throw a whole system out of whack. Scientific knowledge could never become advanced enough to predict the weather, because the weather is unpredictable by nature. (No pun intended.)

Embrace The Chaos.

The butterfly effect gave rise to something called chaos theory, which you might remember as Jeff Goldblum's character's specialty in "Jurassic Park." It centers on hard-to-predict phenomena like animal populations, stock prices, and even human behavior. Chaos may sound like it's out of the realm of mathematics — if it's unpredictable, where do you even start? — but everything in the universe is governed by rules, even if we're not aware of exactly what they are.

Chaos isn't randomness. One of the most famous illustrations of this came from Lorenz, who plotted a graph of solutions to equations representing the motion of a gas. The result looked, aptly enough, like a butterfly. That graph highlighted how chaos always has its limits.

But when it comes to chaos theory, even our best equations can't always nail 100 percent accuracy. That's especially true of the weather. While a butterfly's wings can't actually cause a tornado, other small quirks in the atmosphere, like the exact location of individual clouds, can have big effects that we can't predict. As Lorenz wrote in his pivotal 1963 paper, when his results are "applied to the atmosphere...they indicate that prediction of the sufficiently distant future is impossible by any method, unless the present conditions are known exactly. In view of the inevitable inaccuracy and incompleteness of weather observations, precise very-long-range forecasting would seem to be non-existent." Fifty years later, and that hasn't changed.

So that it for now friend. Meet you guys in another mind blowing article. Have any questions ask me in the comments. If you like this blog make sure to subscribe it for daily science article. If you want us to make a article on your favorite topics mail us.Thank you ,Have a great day.

The Universe Shouldn't Exist, According to Physics.

At the moment of the Big Bang, the incredibly hot, impossibly dense mass known as the universe exploded to create every particle of matter that now surrounds us. Here's the problem: the way physicists understand it, the processes that formed those first particles should have produced an equal number of antiparticles, thereby annihilating all matter and effectively canceling everything out.

But they didn't. That has left physicists scratching their heads for decades trying to ask this most basic question: why does anything exist at all?

Heads, You win.

Every particle in the Standard Model — the theory that describes the tiniest building blocks of the universe — has what's known as an antiparticle. Antiparticles have the exact same mass as their sister particles, but an opposite electric charge. For example, take a familiar particle like the electron, which has a negative charge. Its antiparticle is called the positron, and it has (you guessed it) a positive charge. Most antiparticles don't get their own names the way the positron does; the others just slap "anti-" in front to become the anti-neutron or the anti-muon. Still others are their own antiparticles: the photon doesn't have a charge, so the photon and the anti-photon are the same thing. Since particles are what make up matter, antiparticles are what make up antimatter.

When antimatter and matter interact, the result is catastrophic. The two particles annihilate each other, leaving behind a burst of pure energy. (In fact, the reaction is so pure and efficient that the writers of "Star Trek" decided to power the starship Enterprise with antimatter). But when a particle of matter is created the way it was at the beginning of the universe, it's always paired with its antimatter particle. Physicists have made this happen in the lab, in fact, and watched as particles and their antiparticles "oscillate" millions of times per second before they decay into another particle, one that's either matter or antimatter. At the beginning of the universe, this decay should have happened in a 50/50 ratio: half into matter, half into antimatter. And as you now know, 50 percent matter plus 50 percent antimatter means zero percent universe.

CERN explains this using a coin analogy: a coin spinning on a table can land on heads or tails, but you can't call it heads or tails until it actually lands. If you spin a whole lot of coins, you should expect that roughly half will land on heads and half will land on tails. Same goes for the oscillating particles. But in the early universe, something changed the odds, and we don't know what that something was. It was as if a magic marble rolled along the table and made most of the coins land on heads.

To Step Forward, To Step Back.

So what was it? Why did we get more matter than antimatter? Why is matter even a thing? To find out, physicists are trying to find the tiniest, subtlest differences between matter and antimatter. If a difference exists, it could explain why one got a leg up on the other in the early universe

In 2016, the Alpha experiment at CERN successfully created and measured antihydrogen, but didn't find any differences between it and regular-matter hydrogen. In early 2017, researchers at the Large Hadron Collider found that baryons — an umbrella term for the type of particles that make up the universe — seem to decay in a slightly different way than their antimatter counterparts. And in fall of 2017, physicists measured the "magnetic moment" of an anti-proton, only to find that it's identical to a regular proton. The search continues, and one of the most fundamental questions in the universe remains unanswered.

If you want to find at least a few answers to the fundamental questions of the universe, you might want to read Stephen Hawking's "The Grand Design." 

So that it for now friend. Meet you guys in another mind blowing article. Have any questions ask me in the comments. If you like this blog make sure to subscribe it for daily science article. If you want us to make a article on your favorite topics mail us.Thank you ,Have a great day.