November 21, 2013 - SPACE - Consumer video cameras and advanced laboratory techniques gave
scientists an unprecedented opportunity to study the meteor that
exploded over Chelyabinsk, Russia, in February. The explosion was
equivalent to about 600 thousand tonnes of TNT, 150 times bigger than
the 2012 Sutter's Mill meteorite in California.
A Wake Up Call For The World.
"If humanity does not want to go the way of the dinosaurs, we need to
study an event like this in detail," says Qing-zhu Yin, professor in the
department of earth and planetary sciences at University of California,
Davis.
Saying it was a "wake-up call," Yin says the Chelyabinsk meteorite, the
largest strike since the Tunguska event of 1908, belongs to the most
common type of meteorite, an "ordinary chondrite." If a catastrophic
meteorite strike were to occur in the future, it would most likely be an
object of this type.
"Our goal was to understand all circumstances that resulted in the
damaging shock wave that sent over 1,200 people to hospitals in the
Chelyabinsk blast area that day," says Peter Jenniskens, meteor
astronomer at SETI Institute.
Their findings are published in the journal Science.
Based on viewing angles from videos of the fireball, researchers
calculated that the meteoroid entered Earth's atmosphere at just over 19
kilometres per second, slightly faster than had previously been
reported.
Sunburn
"Our meteoroid entry modelling showed that the impact was caused by a 20
metre-sized single chunk of rock that efficiently fragmented at 30 km
altitude," says Olga Popova of the Russian Academy of Sciences in
Moscow. The meteor's brightness peaked at an altitude of 29.7 km (18.5
miles) as the object exploded. For nearby observers, it briefly appeared
brighter than the sun and caused some severe sunburns.
The team estimated that about three-quarters of the meteoroid evaporated
at that point. Most of the rest converted to dust and only a small
fraction (4,000 to 6,000 kilogrammes, or less than 0.05 per cent) fell
to the ground as meteorites. The dust cloud was so hot, it glowed
orange. The largest single piece, weighing about 650 kilogrammes, was
recovered from the bed of Lake Chebarkul in October by a team from Ural
Federal University led by Professor Viktor Grokhovsky.
(A meteoroid is the original object; a meteor is the "shooting star"
in the sky; and a meteorite is the object that reaches the ground.)
Widespread Damage
Shockwaves from the airburst broke windows, rattled buildings and even
knocked people from their feet. Popova and Jenniskens visited over 50
villages in the area and found that the shockwave caused damage about 90
kilometres (50 miles) on either side of the trajectory.
The shape of the damaged area can be explained by the fact that the energy was deposited over a range of altitudes.
The object broke up 30 kilometres above under the enormous stress of
entering the atmosphere at high speed. The break-up was likely
facilitated by abundant "shock veins" that pass through the rock, caused
by an impact that occurred hundreds of millions of years ago. These
veins would have weakened the original meteoroid.
Yin's laboratory carried out chemical and isotopic analysis of the
meteorites and Ken Verosub, professor in the department of earth and
planetary sciences, measured the magnetic properties of metallic grains
in the meteorite. Doug Rowland, project scientist in the Center for
Molecular and Genomic Imaging in the department of biomedical
engineering, contributed X-ray computed tomography scanning of the rock.
Violent History
Put together, these measurements confirmed that the Chelyabinsk object
was an ordinary chondrite, 4,452 million years old, and that it last
went through a significant shock event about 115 million years after the
formation of the solar system 4,567 million years ago. That impact was
at a much later date than in other known chondrites of the same type,
Yin says, suggesting a violent history.
Jenniskens calculates the object may have come from the Flora asteroid
family in the asteroid belt, but the chunk that hit the Chelyabinsk area
was apparently not broken up in the asteroid belt itself. Researchers
at the University of Tokyo and Waseda University in Japan found that the
rock had been exposed to cosmic rays for only about 1.2 million years,
unusually short for rocks originating in the Flora family.
Chelyabinsk belonged to a bigger "rubble pile" asteroid that broke apart
1.2 million years ago, possibly in an earlier close encounter with
Earth, Jenniskens speculates. The rest of that rubble could still be
around as part of the near-earth asteroid population.
Major meteorite strikes like Tunguska or Chelyabinsk occur more
frequently than we tend to think, Yin says. For example, four tonnes of
material were recovered from a meteor shower in Jilin, China in 1976.
"Chelyabinsk serves as unique calibration point for high energy
meteorite impact events for our future studies." -
Free Press Journal.
Cloudy, With A Chance of Meteors.
Earlier this year, on the chilly morning of February 15th, a thirteen-thousand-ton meteor screamed above the Ural Mountains before exploding in an airburst seventy-six-thousand feet above Chelyabinsk, Russia. While the destruction caused by the shock wave was immediately clear—over a thousand people injured, thousands of buildings damaged—the scientific fallout is still manifesting. Combined with other evidence spanning the past twenty years, new reports indicate that we should rethink our notions of how frequent, and how destructive, events like this are.
The Chelyabinsk meteor’s dramatic entrance is just one piece of a story that begins deep in our past. We live among the flotsam and jetsam of a great storm that peaked four and a half billion years ago. In that storm—a slow-motion tempest of swirling gas and dust—Earth emerged as a rocky, metal-rich glob of agglomerated matter, coated with a thin veneer of atmosphere and water. Throughout its history, our planet has suffered sporadic bombardment by the remains of that tumultuous period, from the pitter-patter of microscopic rocks that burn up in the atmosphere to gargantuan asteroids that reset the global environment.
By human standards, the largest collisions are few and far between. The last time a six-mile-wide rock hit the planet was sixty-five million years ago, when it thundered into what is now the Yucatan Peninsula, creating a hundred-mile-wide crater. The climatological fallout contributed to the mass extinction of not just the dinosaurs but also some seventy-five per cent of all animal and plant life.
Impact events, as they are known, are much more frequent with smaller objects. We can expect mile-wide asteroids as often as every few hundred thousand years or so; when it comes to rocks about ten yards across, we get hit at least once a year. For our relatively recently developed human civilization, the problem lies between these sizes: every few thousand years, a boulder a hundred yards across can hit with the explosive force of more than fifteen hundred megatons of T.N.T.—enough to wipe a small country off the map. If the smaller Chelyabinsk meteor had come in above a city like New York, it would have injured many more than the twelve hundred it did in Russia.
Despite astronomers’ herculean efforts to detect and map all the potential threats—a catalogue of so-called Near Earth Objects now stands at just over ten thousand—we’re still unsure about the number of Chelyabinsk-sized bodies and how often they hit us. So while it wasn’t very nice for the Ural region, this explosive event has provided a remarkable wealth of new data.
Three new papers, published in the journals Nature and Science, provide fresh details about the Chelyabinsk meteor. Because no one was expecting the meteor, the majority of the data collected is thanks to our species’ narcissistic tendencies. In the studies published by Nature and Science, the researchers made ingenious use of public video footage from smartphones and security cameras to reconstruct the meteor’s trajectory as it tore a hundred mile path through the dawn sky at a speed of forty thousand miles per hour. Video footage also indicated the intensity of the meteor’s light, while audio tracks revealed the timing of sonic booms and the airburst shock-wave arrival. This feat of clever detective work confirmed that the thirteen-thousand ton, twenty-yard-long object exploded with a destructive energy thirty times that of the Hiroshima atomic bomb, while recovered fragments showed that it was already highly fractured before hitting our atmosphere—a fact that allowed three quarters of it simply to evaporate at high temperature, preventing significantly greater destruction than had it remained intact all the way to the ground.
Researchers now believe that this rocky mass is likely a broken-off sibling of a mile-and-a-half-wide asteroid known as 1999 NC43, which periodically but usually benignly crosses Earth’s orbital path. This is unfortunate, because it means that other pieces of 1999 NC43 could be trailing in similar orbits, toward Earth. If these siblings are of similar size, we’ll be hard-pressed to spot them until they’re exploding in our skies. And, while previously we’d thought that objects the size of the Chelyabinsk meteor hit us once every hundred and fifty years or so, the researchers report that the methods commonly used for estimating the bulk sizes of objects hitting us may have been skewed.
Infrasound—ultra-low-frequency sound—detectors across the globe are used as part of the Comprehensive Nuclear Test-Ban Treaty’s monitoring technology, to catch illicit bomb tests. The same detectors can also pick up the pulse of atmospheric meteor events, and have been used to estimate the power and rate at which they happen. The Chelyabinsk hit was the most powerful infrasound event ever recorded by this system. With this data in hand, the scientists have dug back into the monitoring records, and have reevaluated the methodology used to estimate the power of meteor explosions. They found what appears to be a discrepancy in our previous estimates of how often objects this size will hit the planet: we’ve slightly overestimated the blast damage of individual impacts, but we’ve underestimated the risk of impact by a factor of ten, meaning that meteors like Chelyabinsk could be coming every fifteen to twenty years.
This doesn’t imply that the next dinosaur-killing giant asteroid is likely to show up soon, but it does suggest that right now, and for the past few decades, we may be and have been experiencing an anomalously high incidence of twenty-yard-long rocks hitting the Earth. This is an unexpected twist, because we’ve largely assumed that the rate of impacts by asteroids is generally constant—an equilibrium with a level of randomness is at least well-understood. Instead, this data indicates that asteroids could strike us in waves, the result of some unwitnessed breakup out in space. In the case of the Chelyabinsk object, analysis of some of the seven-hundred-plus recovered fragments suggests that this breakup could have happened a million years ago, during a period when the parent object, 1999 NC43, previously strayed too close to us. The tidal force of Earth’s gravity would have flexed this body and disrupted it, producing a family of smaller asteroids.
Does this mean that it’s time to take out asteroid insurance? Not quite. More than seventy per cent of the Earth’s surface is ocean, and our densely populated areas still represent a relatively small target area. But it should prompt us to get more serious about investing in ongoing efforts to spot these extraterrestrial objects before they hit us, and to think rationally about how to prevent that. -
New Yorker.