As I write this [and don’t tell the Physics World editors, please] I’m half-watching out of the corner of my eye the quirky French-made, video-game spin-off series Rabbids Invasion. The mad and moronic bunnies (or, in a nod to the original French, Les Lapins Crétins) are presently making another attempt to reach the Moon – a recurring yet never-explained motif in the cartoon – by stacking up a vast pile of junk; charming chaos ensues.

As explained in LUNAR: A History of the Moon in Myths, Maps + Matter – the exquisite new Thames & Hudson book that presents the stunning Apollo-era Lunar Atlas alongside a collection of charming essays – madness has long been associated with the Moon. One suspects there was a good kind of mania behind the drawing up of the Lunar Atlas, a series of geological maps plotting the rock formations on the Moon’s surface that are as much art as they are a visualization of data. And having drooled over LUNAR, truly the crème de la crème of coffee table books, one cannot fail but to become a little mad for the Moon too.

Many faces of the Moon

As well as an exploration of the Moon’s connections (both etymologically and philosophically) to lunacy by science writer Kate Golembiewski, the varied and captivating essays of 20 authors collected in LUNAR cover the gamut from the Moon’s role in ancient times (did you know that the Greeks believed that the souls of the dead gather around the Moon?) through to natural philosophy, eclipses, the space race and the Artemis Programme. My favourite essays were the more off-beat ones: the Moon in silent cinema, for example, or its fascinating influence on “cartes de visite”, the short-lived 19th-century miniature images whose popularity was boosted by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. (I, for one, am now quite resolved to have my portrait taken with a giant, stylised, crescent moon prop.)

The pulse of LUNAR, however, are the breathtaking reproductions of all 44 of the exquisitely hand-drawn 1:1,000,000 scale maps – or “quadrangles” – that make up the US Geological Survey (USGS)/NASA Lunar Atlas (see header image).

Drawn up between 1962 and 1974 by a team of 24 cartographers, illustrators, geographers and geologists, the astonishing Lunar Atlas captures the entirety of the Moon’s near side, every crater and lava-filled maria (“sea”), every terra (highland) and volcanic dome. The work began as a way to guide the robotic and human exploration of the Moon’s surface and was soon augmented with images and rock samples from the missions themselves.

One could be hard-pushed to sum it up better than the American science writer Dava Sobel, who pens the book’s forward: “I’ve been to the Moon, of course. Everyone has, at least vicariously, visited its stark landscapes, driven over its unmarked roads. Even so, I’ve never seen the Moon quite the way it appears here – a black-and-white world rendered in a riot of gorgeous colours.”

Many moons ago

Having been trained in geology, the sections of the book covering the history of the Lunar Atlas piqued my particular interest. The Lunar Atlas was not the first attempt to map the surface of the Moon; one of the reproductions in the book shows an earlier effort from 1961 drawn up by USGS geologists Robert Hackman and Eugene Shoemaker.

Hackman and Shoemaker’s map shows the Moon’s Copernicus region, named after its central crater, which in turn honours the Renaissance-era Polish polymath Nicolaus Copernicus. It served as the first demonstration that the geological principles of stratigraphy (the study of rock layers) as developed on the Earth could also be applied to other bodies. The duo started with the law of superposition; this is the principle that when one finds multiple layers of rock, unless they have been substantially deformed, the older layer will be at the bottom and the youngest at the top.

“The chronology of the Moon’s geologic history is one of violent alteration,” explains science historian Matthew Shindell in LUNAR’s second essay. “What [Hackman and Shoemaker] saw around Copernicus were multiple overlapping layers, including the lava plains of the maria […], craters displaying varying degrees of degradations, and materials and features related to the explosive impacts that had created the craters.”

From these the pair developed a basic geological timeline, unpicking the recent history of the Moon one overlapping feature at the time. They identified five eras, with the Copernican, named after the crater and beginning 1.1 billion years ago, being the most recent.

Considering it was based on observations of just one small region of the Moon, their timescale was remarkably accurate, Shidnell explains, although subsequent observations have redefined its stratigraphic units – for example by adding the Pre-Nectarian as the earliest era (predating the formation of Nectaris, the oldest basin), whose rocks can still be found broken up and mixed into the lunar highlands.

Accordingly, the different quadrants of the atlas very much represent an evolving work, developing as lunar exploration progressed. Later maps tended to be more detailed, reflecting a more nuanced understanding of the Moon’s geological history.

New moon

Parts of the Lunar Atlas have recently found new life in the development of the first-ever complete map of the lunar surface, the “Unified Geologic Map of the Moon”. The new digital map combines the Apollo-era data with that from more recent satellite missions, including the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA)’s SELENE orbiter.

As former USGS Director and NASA astronaut Jim Reilly said when the unified map was first published back in 2020: “People have always been fascinated by the Moon and when we might return. So, it’s wonderful to see USGS create a resource that can help NASA with their planning for future missions.”

I might not be planning a Moon mission (whether by rocket or teetering tower of clutter), but I am planning to give the stunning LUNAR pride of place on my coffee table next time I have guests over – that’s how much it’s left me, ahem, “over the Moon”.

• 2024 Thames and Hudson 256pp £50.00

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Some of our understanding of Uranus may be false, say physicists at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory who have revisited Voyager 2 data before and after its 1986 flyby of this ice-giant planet. The new analyses could shed more light on some of the mysterious and hitherto unexplainable measurements made by the spacecraft. For example, why did it register a strongly asymmetric, plasma-free magnetosphere – something that is unheard of for planets in our solar system – and belts of highly energetic electrons?

Voyager 2 reached Uranus, the seventh planet in our solar system, 38 years ago. The spacecraft gathered its data in just five days and the discoveries from this one and, so far, only flyby provide most of our understanding of this ice giant. Two major findings that delighted astronomers were its 10 new moons and two rings. Other observations perplexed researchers, however.

One of these, explains Jamie Jasinski, who led this new study, was the observation of the second most intense electron radiation belt after Jupiter’s. How such a belt could be maintained or even exist at Uranus lacked an explanation until now. “The other mystery was that the magnetosphere did not have any plasma,” he says. “Indeed, we have been calling the Uranian magnetosphere a ‘vacuum magnetosphere’ because of how empty it is.”

Unrepresentative conditions

These observations, however, may not be representative of the conditions that usually prevail at Uranus, Jasinski explains, because they were simply made during an anomalous period. Indeed, just before the flyby, unusual solar activity  squashed the planet’s magnetosphere down to about 20% of its original volume. Such a situation exists only very rarely and was likely responsible for creating a plasma-free magnetosphere with the observed highly excited electron radiation belts.

Jasinski and colleagues came to their conclusions by analysing Voyager 2 data of the solar wind (a stream of charged particles emanating from the Sun) upstream of Uranus for the few days before the flyby started. They saw that the dynamic pressure of the solar wind increased by a factor of 20, meaning that it dramatically compressed the magnetosphere of Uranus. They then looked at eight months of solar wind data obtained by the spacecraft at Uranus’ orbit and found that the solar wind conditions present during the flyby only occur 4% of the time.

“The flyby therefore occurred during the maximum peak solar wind intensity in that entire eight-month period,” explains Jasinski.

The scientific picture we have of Uranus since the Voyager 2 flyby is that it has an extreme magnetospheric environment, he says. But maybe the flyby just happened to occur during some strange activity rather than it being like that generally.

The timing was just wrong

Jasinski previously worked on NASA’s MESSENGER mission to Mercury. Out of the thousands of orbits made by this spacecraft around the planet over a four-year period, there were occasional times where activity from the Sun completely eroded the entire magnetic field. “That really highlighted for me that if we had made an observation during one of those events, we would have a very different idea of Mercury.”

Following this line of thought, Jasinski asked himself whether we had simply observed Uranus during a similar anomalous time. “The Voyager 2 flyby lasted just five days, so we may have observed Uranus at just the ‘wrong time’,” he says.

One of the most important take-home messages from this study is that we can’t take the results from just one flyby as a being a good representation of the Uranus system, he tells Physics World. Future missions must therefore be designed so that a spacecraft remains in orbit for a few years, enabling variations to be observed over long time periods.

Why we need to go back to Uranus

One of the reasons that we need to go back to Uranus, Jasinski says, is to find out whether any of its moons have subsurface liquid oceans. To observe such oceans with a spacecraft, the moons need to be inside the magnetosphere. This is because the magnetosphere, as it rotates, provides a predictable, steadily varying magnetic field at the moon. This field can then induce a magnetic field response from the ocean that can be measured by the spacecraft. The conductivity of the ocean – and therefore the magnetic signal from the moon – will vary with the depth, thickness and salinity of the ocean.

If the moon is outside the magnetosphere, this steady and predictable external field does not exist and it can no longer drive the induction response. We cannot therefore, detect a magnetic field from the ocean if the moon is outside the magnetosphere.

Before these latest results, researchers thought that the outermost moons, Titania and Oberon, would spend a significant part of their orbit around the planet outside of the magnetosphere, Jasinski explains. This is because we thought that Uranus’s magnetosphere was generally small. However, in light of the new findings, this is probably not true and both moons will orbit inside the magnetosphere since it is much larger than previously thought.

Titania and Oberon are the most likely candidates for harbouring oceans, he adds, because they are slightly larger than the other moons. This means that they can retain heat better and therefore be warmer and less likely to be completely frozen.

“A future mission to Uranus is critical in collecting the scientific measurements to answer some of the most intriguing science questions in our solar system,” says Jasinski. “Only by going back to Uranus and orbiting the planet can we really gain an understanding of this curious planet.”

Happily, in 2022, the US National Academies outlined that a Uranus Orbiter and Probe mission should be a future NASA flagship mission that NASA should prioritize in the coming decade. Such a mission would help us unravel the nature of Uranus’s magnetosphere and its interaction with the planet’s atmosphere, moons and rings, and with the solar wind. “Of course, modern instrumentation would also revolutionize the type of discoveries we would make compared to previous missions,” says Jasinski.

The present study is detailed in Nature Astronomy.

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When the Voyager 2 spacecraft flew past Uranus and Neptune in 1986 and 1989, it detected something strange: neither of these “ice giant” planets has a well-defined north and south magnetic pole. This absence has remained mysterious ever since, but simulations performed at the University of California, Berkeley (UCB) in the US have now suggested an explanation. According to UCB planetary scientist Burkhard Militzer, the disorganized magnetic fields of Uranus and Neptune may arise from a separation of the icy fluids that make up their interiors. The theory could be tested in laboratory experiments of fluids at high pressures, as well as by a proposed mission to Uranus in the 2040s.

On Earth, the dipole magnetic field that loops from the North Pole to the South Pole arises from convection in the planet’s liquid-iron outer core. Since Uranus and Neptune lack such a dipole field, this implies that the convective movement of material in their interiors must be very different.

In 2004, planetary scientists Sabine Stanley and Jeremy Bloxham suggested that the planets’ interiors might contain immiscible layers. This separation would make widespread convection impossible, preventing a global dipolar magnetic field from forming, while convection in just one layer would produce the disorganized magnetic field that Voyager 2 observed. However, the nature of these non-mixing layers was still unexplained – hampered, in part, by a lack of data.

“Since both planets have been visited by only one spacecraft (Voyager 2), we do not have many measurements to analyse,” Militzer says.

Two immiscible fluids

To investigate conditions deep beneath Uranus and Neptune’s icy surfaces, Militzer developed computer models to simulate how a mixture of water, methane and ammonia will behave at the temperatures (above 4750 K) and pressures (above 3 x 10⁶ atmospheres) that prevail there. The results surprised him. “One morning, I opened my laptop,” he recalls. “When I started analysing my latest simulations, I could not believe my eyes. An initially homogeneous mixture of water, methane and ammonia had separated into two distinct layers.”

The upper layer, he explains, is thin, rich in water and convecting, which allows it to generate the disordered magnetic field. The lower layer is magnetically inactive and composed of carbon, nitrogen and hydrogen. “This had never been observed before and I could tell right then that this result might allow us to understand what has been going on in the interiors of Uranus and Neptune,” he says.

A plastic polymer-like- and a water-rich layer

Militzer’s model, which he describes in PNAS, shows that the hydrogen content in the methane-ammonia mixture gradually decreases with depth, transforming into a C-N-H fluid. This C-N-H layer is almost like a plastic polymer, Militzer explains, and cannot support even a disorganized magnetic field – unlike the upper, water-rich layer, which likely convects.

A future mission to Uranus with the right instruments on board could provide observational evidence for this structure, Militzer says. “I would advocate for a Doppler imager so we can detect the planet’s natural oscillation frequencies,” he tells Physics World. Though such instruments are expensive and heavy, he says they are essential to detecting the presence of the predicted two ice layers in Uranus’ interior: “Like one can distinguish between an oboe and a clarinet, these frequencies can tell [us] about a planet’s interior structure.”

A follow-up to Voyager 2 could also reveal how the ice giants’ structures have evolved since they formed 4.5 billion years ago. Initially, their interiors would have contained only a single ice layer, and this layer would have generated a strong dipolar magnetic field with well-defined north and south poles. “Then, at some point, this ice separated into two distinct layers and their magnetic field switched from dipolar to disordered fields that we see today,” Militzer explains.

Determining when this switch occurred would help us understand not only Uranus and Neptune, but also ice giants orbiting stars other than our Sun. “The most common exoplanets discovered to date are around the same size as Uranus and Neptune, so when we observe the magnetic field of such ‘sub-Neptune’ exoplanets in the future, we might be able to say something about their age,” Militzer says.

In the near term, Militzer hopes that experimentalists will be able to test his theory in extremely-high temperatures and pressure fluid systems that mimic the proportions of elements found on Uranus and Neptune. But his long-term hopes are pinned on a new mission that could detect the predicted layers directly. “While I will have long retired when such a detection might eventually be made, I would be so happy to see it in my lifetime,” he says.

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